Hinako's Kirinoya
by volleydork
Summary: Seven months ago, Shinomiya said goodbye to his former flame, Yukihira. Now, his relationships with other people have suffered as he doesn't care about anything except his career. Upon discovering that Hinako plans to leave the profession, Shinomiya prioritises friendship over food and flies to Japan to figure out why... [Mentions of Shinomiya x Yukihira and Hinako x Female OC]
1. They Call Him Robuchon

Chapter One: They Call Him Robuchon

Seconds melted into minutes, minutes hurtled into hours, hours dawdled into days and days rolled into months of monotony — not just in the kitchen, but out in the world as well. Not to say Shinomiya had grown discontent with his cooking — at this point, cooking was the only thing which granted him the gift of peace — but whenever he wasn't cooking, he was constantly aware of all the thoughts and niggling concerns in his head.

Why was he sleeping when he could be creating?

What was the point of a break day if he was just going to be in the kitchen anyway?

What was the point of doing anything other than cooking?

As a result of the turmoil of thoughts in his head, Shinomiya steadily grew into the habit of cooking, cooking and cooking. He made his working hours longer. He started working through his weekends as well as the weekdays. Sleepless nights were spent in the kitchen rather than at the mercy of his phone. But during those sleepless nights, Shinomiya was able to devise countless dishes. Cooking, creating, completing.

_Tomates Farcies._

_Le grand coq au vin._

_Flan aux Champignon._

Despite the popularity of these dishes which the media deemed his 'new specialties', Shinomiya knew one major truth: they weren't ultimate specialties. They were definitely dishes that were worthy of being on the SHINO's menu, dishes which international gourmands were throwing five-star ratings at, but… Shinomiya still wasn't satisfied. Despite the fact he was working himself into the ground on a daily basis, he just didn't feel like he was doing enough to improve as a chef. Sometimes he found himself wondering whether his brain would implode on itself or not, but Shinomiya never left himself with enough time to implode. He didn't have time to falter, yet alone implode. He had to find his ultimate specialty. He had to.

But, in order to do that, he had to make sure that the only thing that entered and left his kitchen was perfection. No more, no less. His staff had to be perfect. His dishes had to be perfect. Every-fucking-thing had to be perfect. No mistakes. No slow people. And most importantly, nothing less than perfection.

_"You call this a julienne? Get the hell out of my kitchen!"_

_"You dare butcher my recipes? My recipes? Fuck off, and don't come back!"_

_"Don't make me fire you — actually, never mind. You're done for. Get out."_

Shinomiya had blazed his way through three sous chefs in the past seven months, and now, he'd finally reached sous chef number four: Jacques Jacquand. He was a promising newbie from Totsuki who had flown straight to France after graduating as the second seat. Shinomiya had been hesitant to accept him for the position, but he'd proven that he could keep up with the workload and keep a clear head in the kitchen. So, Jacques Jacquand became Shinomiya's newest sous chef — highly efficient, extremely polished and eager to learn. It had only been two weeks since Shinomiya had hired him, and he'd already proved that he was more than worth his salt.

"He's not going to be the next Yukihira, is he?" Lucie joked, casting a glance in Jacques' direction.

Shinomiya's neutral expression turned into a glare.

"Okay, okay, sorry," Lucie said, holding up both hands. "Forget I said that."

There was a somewhat awkward silence which took place between them, though it was broken by a loud "Hey, guys!" from Gao, who was skipping into the kitchen with a Cooking Monthly magazine in her hand.

"It's our amazing head chef," she announced, holding up the magazine with a huge grin on her face. The cover showcased none other than Shinomiya himself, caressing a knife in his hand as he stood against a starry backdrop, looking as if he were ready to conquer the world with nothing but a shiny, pointy knife. The mere sight of the image was enough to put a grimace on Shinomiya's lips. He'd always hated that picture, mainly because it wasn't even his knife — Cooking Monthly had just given him a random knife made by one of their sponsors and refused to let him hold his own knife on the basis of 'sponsorship'. Shinomiya loved his knife as if it were an extension of his arm, so not being able to have his picture with it had left a sour taste in his mouth. It didn't matter if the lighting was on point; it didn't matter if every other detail about the picture was perfect. It wasn't his knife, and that was enough to ruin the cover for him.

"I was super surprised when I saw this! Especially since you said you were staying away from the media this year," Gao continued, tilting her head in what appeared to be confusion. "Did you change your mind?"

"Nope," Shinomiya replied, moving forwards so that he could pluck the magazine out of her hand. "It's an old shoot from last year. Anyway, if you're done reading this, I'm going to trash it."

"Wait, wait, wait, there's some super juicy gossip in there! Apparently," Gao began, moving closer with a certain twinkle in her eyes, "a certain chef who goes by the name of Joel Robuchon wants to come and eat here."

Shinomiya clicked his tongue and tossed his head as if to say 'don't be stupid, Wei'. On that note, he tossed the magazine in the nearby bin before pouring the remainder of his wine in with it, rendering it unreadable.

He'd worked hard to detach himself entirely from the media this year. He no longer frequented the sets of television shows, even despite the millions of viewers who missed seeing his segments on Kawashima's Talk Show. The only two places he frequented nowadays were his apartment and his restaurant, but even then, Shinomiya would've preferred to just remain at his restaurant and nowhere else. At this point, it was practically his home. His apartment was just that — an apartment. He could easily go days without setting foot in his apartment, and even when he did return home, it would only be for an hour or two before he nipped back out to go and continue doing whatever needed to be done at his restaurant.

He'd completely discarded the media in his pursuit for perfection, and yet, they still seemed hellbent on ensuring that he remained relevant. SHINO's had become even busier since he'd announced his break from all things media.

"Anyway, let's start the preparation for tonight. We've got a long shift ahead of us," Shinomiya said, walking away from the bin and towards the counter where an assortment of fresh vegetables were laid out. His ingredient shipment had arrived earlier on in the morning, so all he had to do was prepare what he needed for tonight.

"Chef! There's someone who wants to speak to you," Marienne said, bursting into the kitchen with a phone in her hand. Marienne was the soup chef, predominantly focused on creating broths, sauces and all sorts for the dishes, though she was adept enough that she could assist with any other dish if necessary.

Shinomiya raised an eyebrow, but nodded and placed his eggplant down on the counter. He retrieved the phone from Marienne's hand and pressed it to his ear before identifying himself with a simple "This is Kojirou".

"Ah, Kojirou! At last. Bonjour. I'm calling to make a reservation under the name Joel Robuchon," a deep voice replied. "The next available space for a reservation would be July 1st, correct?"

Shinomiya froze for a good thirty seconds, trying to figure out whether this was some sort of prank call or not. The Joel Robuchon, coming to his restaurant? Sure, Shinomiya had made a lot of progress in this year alone, but… Joel Robuchon? One of the top chefs in the world? Coming to eat at his restaurant?

"Hello? You're still there, yes?"

"Yes," Shinomiya replied, though he was still a little flustered by the abruptness of it all. "That's correct. July 1st is available for reservations."

"In that case," Robuchon continued, "I'd like to reserve a place for July 1st."

"Sure," Shinomiya replied, his tone just as calm and professional as it usually was when dealing with clients. Despite his professional aura, however, he was finding it impossible to ignore the gleeful smile which had fought its way onto his lips. The past few months had felt like a perpetual drone of monotony, but now, Shinomiya was beginning to see sparks of colour in his routine. Inspiration. It was a warm, colourful feeling which Shinomiya had almost forgotten the feel of, but now it buzzed through his veins, just as fresh as it had been when he'd picked up a knife for the first time.

The only thing was, he wouldn't be picking up that knife to help his mom prepare the vegetables from their little home garden.

He was going to be picking up that knife to prepare the ultimate specialty for a man who was arguably one of the best chefs in the world. After all, Robuchon had been named Chef of the Century by _Gault Millau_. Everyone was waiting to see what he had up his sleeve, Michelin inspectors included. His thirty and counting Michelin stars were testament enough to that.

Shinomiya should've been scared, but fear didn't even register in his mind. A multitude of dish ideas were flashing before his eyes, each image more vivid than the last. Dishes inspired by Robuchon's specialty dishes. Dishes which would push the boundaries of his talents. Dishes which would show a new side of his cooking. Maybe — just maybe — this was the push he needed to develop his ultimate specialty.

"…and have a good day," Robuchon concluded, a hearty chuckle leaving his lips. "I look forward to coming on the first."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it," Shinomiya replied in an earnest tone.

On that note, Robuchon hung up, leaving Shinomiya with an even huger grin on his face as he lowered the phone. He'd forgotten that he had his staff members all around him — well, at least until he heard Lucie cooing, "Aww! Look how happy he looks!"

"Shut up," Shinomiya grumbled, handing the electronic device back to Marienne while attempting to fight the smile off his lips. It was refusing to leave, however, so Shinomiya eventually settled for throwing a hand over his lips while shooting a glare in Lucie's direction. When Shinomiya heard loud chuckling to his left, he turned his head to face Gao, whose thumbs were pointed up in his direction.

"See? I told you the rumours were true," Gao trilled, a teasing smile on her lips as she encouragingly slapped Shinomiya's shoulder. "Don't worry, Chef! We'll smash it out of the park like we always do. Right, Lucie? Right, Marienne? Right, Jacques?"

The ensuing "ouais!" were so loud that Shinomiya was surprised that his eardrums hadn't shattered. While he wanted to tell his staff off for being loud, he couldn't quite bring himself to start yelling. Instead, he lifted himself onto a nearby stool and watched the others as they bustled about the kitchen, excitedly burbling about how they'd be able to tell their friends that they'd helped create a dish for the Chef Robuchon and high-fiving each other.

"You guys realise I have to make the dish first, right?"

Lucie shot a bright grin in his direction. "We know. Knowing you, you'll come up with a dish that's good enough to cure depression. And you'll do it in the space of twenty-four hours!"

A chuckle left Shinomiya's lips, though the smile had fallen off his lips ever-so-slightly.

"Perhaps."

* * *

Later on that afternoon, Shinomiya retreated to his staffroom after having made lunch for everyone. He might've stayed to eat with them, but he had way too many thoughts in his head to focus on enjoying his food. Besides, Hinako would probably shoot him if he kept trying to skip out on their daily video chats. They hadn't been as 'daily' as they had been when they'd first started out, though that was probably Shinomiya's fault more than anything else. Some days, he would be too tired to load up his laptop. Other days — kind of like today — he just wouldn't be in the mood for talking at all. He was tired, he was running on a tight schedule and the littlest things were bound to make him snap. Still… he didn't want to disappoint Hinako any more than he already had.

"Hey, Hinako," Shinomiya greeted, the words accompanied with a slight wave of the hand.

Hinako responded in kind, though she seemed to be lacking her usual energy. Shinomiya couldn't help but think back to the days where Hinako would bombard him with texts, telling him to get his ass to the nearest laptop so that they could have a video chat. The days where they'd sit and spend ages discussing what was going on in Shinomiya's life, their conversations highlighted with exultant gestures and exciting news: new dishes, new achievements, new kitchen staff.

Now, their chats seemed to last a mere five minutes. Ten, at a push.

"You sound dead," Shinomiya observed. "Ever heard of enthusiasm?"

"Hard to be enthusiastic when you missed my birthday party," Hinako replied, her tone somewhat flat. "But, hey. Whatever. People get busy."

Shinomiya wasn't sure whether to apologise to her or not — he'd been told to fuck himself the last time he'd tried — but after a brief pause, he opted for trying to keep the conversation light-hearted.

"Well… how's it feel being a year older?"

"No different." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm destined to look twenty for the rest of my life."

"You're missing a zero on that twenty."

"Ha-ha."

Shinomiya shrugged his shoulders in response, though when silence slithered its way into the conversation once more, he couldn't help but feel that his jab had been a little ill-timed. Usually, Hinako would've fired back with "you're one to talk about age when you're the older one, Senpai" or something along those lines, but she was being oddly quiet. She'd said that she didn't mind that he'd missed her birthday… but maybe she was doing one of those weird girl things where she'd say that she didn't mind even though she did. Shinomiya really didn't know, but either way, Hinako didn't seem like herself.

"On a more serious note," Hinako said, her voice breaking the silence, "get some sleep before your shift tonight. You look dead."

"Duly noted," Shinomiya replied.

"Anyway… I'm not sure if you remember, but remember when we talked about bringing the North-East alliance back around the start of the year? We've finally got a chance to bring it back," Hinako enthused, life beginning to spring into her voice once more. "There's some informal team cooking competitions going down in Osaka this weekend, so if you want to take a break from your restaurant for a bit… it would be fun. A bunch of our Totsuki buddies are going too. So… what d'ya say?"

Their team name was a nod to Hinako and Shinomiya's respective backgrounds — Hinako being from Hokkaido in the north while Shinomiya was from Kyushu in the east. It had been years since the two of them had cooked together in a competitive nature, mainly because of their differing schedules. Upon graduating, they'd retired the 'North-East Alliance', though they'd agreed that they would meet up one day to bring it back. It would've been fun, it really would've been fun, but… Shinomiya just couldn't afford to spend his time dilly-dallying in Japan when he had an ultimate specialty to develop. He just couldn't.

"Well… I don't know. I think we'll have to put the alliance on hold for now," Shinomiya replied to the face on his screen, letting out a heavy yawn before taking a swig from his coffee mug. Visions of failed concept dishes flashed in his mind, failed concept dishes which needed to be reworked into one ultimate specialty.

"Maybe another time," Shinomiya concluded.

There had been hope gleaming in her wide purple eyes, but as soon as the words left Shinomiya's lips, the hope crystallised into nothing but a mere memory, her eyes lowering once more as if to say 'of course'. The disappointment lasted only a few seconds before frustration flashed in her eyes, her eyes darting back up at the screen yet again as she opened her mouth to make her rebuttal.

"So, that's code for 'I'm bailing on you again', right? Honestly, I'm not even surprised anymore." The statement was followed by an emphatic sip of green tea, though Hinako quickly lowered her cup to one side and held her finger up to keep Shinomiya from saying anything more. "And you know what? I think you're forgetting that friendship is a two way street. I can't be the only one putting effort in, you know?"

"It's not like I'm saying no because I don't want to see you," Shinomiya insisted. "I'm busy, alright? And besides, I said 'another time'. It's not like I said 'never'."

"Well, it certainly feels like 'never'," Hinako retorted. "You've been saying 'I'll come down, I'll come down' for the past few months but you always cancel last-minute. Always. I mean, I understand not wanting to come down when SHINO's is super busy, but it feels like you're always working. Can't you give yourself a break already?"

"Hinako, I think you're the one who needs to give me a break," Shinomiya dryly responded. "I've got bigger things on my plate right now."

"Really? You're that busy that you can't be bothered to see your friends?"

"I've been talking with you on a near-daily basis, haven't I?" Shinomiya raised an eyebrow at his screen. "I really don't see what you're complaining about."

She let out a deep sigh. "Really?"

"Yeah, Hinako. Really."

"Fine. What am I complaining about? I'm complaining about the fact that you constantly make excuses not to come and see us, about the fact you've been acting really fucking selfish this year and about how you're just super blind to what's happening in the lives of the people you care about," Hinako fired, her arms folded as she regarded Shinomiya with a stern expression from her side of the screen. "You know, there's something that I've really needed to talk to you ab—"

"Hinako, just give me a fucking break," Shinomiya interjected. "Moan, moan, moan. Seriously, I don't have time for this. Don't you have your own fucking restaurant to run?"

Hinako looked as if she were about to argue the point, but after some moments of her mouth opening and closing, she simply let out a sigh as sadness crossed her face. It was there for a fraction of a second before she forced a smile and said, "Fine, I'll give you a fucking break".

The video call promptly came to an end, leaving Shinomiya a little taken aback. He stared at his screen for a few moments, wondering whether the call had ended at that point by coincidence or whether Hinako had just ended the call on purpose. The little notification was there though, telling him that Hinako had ended the call.

But why? It wasn't like he'd insulted her or anything. Hinako had said much, much worse to him in the past, hadn't she?

"Whatever. I don't have time for this," Shinomiya muttered, closing the laptop lid before getting up to lie down on the nearby couch. He was still preoccupied with the Robuchon news, but Hinako had told him to get some sleep before tonight's shift. Sure, there was the unspoken rule that it was never a good idea to take Hinako's advice, but Shinomiya wasn't going to lie: the couch looked awfully tempting right about now.

It wasn't too long before he dozed off on the couch, his head slumped on the cushion and a blanket hastily pulled over his body, shielding him from the world. He wouldn't get much time to nap — perhaps an hour or two — but in the culinary world, every minute mattered.

* * *

"Table 3's been seated! They want ratatouille," Gao narrated.

It had been about an hour since SHINO's had opened for business, and so far, everything was going well. The three main dishes of the night were Shinomiya's personal favourites of the month: ratatouille, boeuf bourguignon and saumon fumé. Ratatouille was a pain to make, mainly because of its dependency on extremely intricate presentation. Boeuf bourguignon was even more gruelling because of the amount of ingredients that needed to be in harmony with one another. Saumon fumé was relatively simple in comparison, but it had been praised in Cooking Monthly as the 'best dish of the month' based on its 'simple yet irresistibly delicious' taste. The secret? His honey-based marinade.

"Compris," Shinomiya said, raising a hand to acknowledge that he'd heard Gao. "Lucie, start preparing the ratatouille for Table 3. I'm still on the boeuf bourguignon."

"Oui, Chef!"

Lucie was quick to get on the preparation for the dish, setting up the baking tray before retrieving all of the pre-sliced ingredients she needed. Eggplants, zucchinis, yellow bell peppers, any flavourful vegetable imaginable. Shinomiya always liked to think of ratatouille as being a 'free for all' in terms of vegetables. It was a dish that could make even the most avid vegetable-haters cry out for joy. It was a dish that commanded respect, being so full of flavour and texture despite not containing any meat whatsoever. It was a dish which Shinomiya had finally, finally perfected after weeks of experimentation. Experimenting with vegetables that would complement each other's flavours; trialling various methods of cooking said vegetables without ruining their rich, colourful appearance; collaborating with Marienne to develop rich sauces that would harmonise with the vegetables rather than overpowering them. It had been a gruelling dish from start to finish, but ever since he'd debuted his ratatouille to the masses, the media had been singing his praises left, right and centre.

All of the sleepless nights had been worth it. All of it. So what if Shinomiya's limbs were crying out for rest? So what if his eyes were throbbing in their sockets? He was a chef. This was merely another part of his job. He wasn't going to bow to the command of something as weak as fatigue, damnit. Not when he was the Shinomiya Kojirou.

His eyes darted over to the boeuf bourguignon which was simmering away in its pot, his hands simultaneously working on some finely diced onions which were going to be tossed in at any second. The trick to making boeuf bourguignon was to throw in all the necessary vegetables at different stages so that when the dish was finally complete, all of the vegetables would be cooked to perfection. Each vegetable had different qualities and different needs — some needed longer to be cooked, while others didn't need that much time to reach their optimal taste. Shinomiya had spent a while developing this recipe, adding his own twists and tweaks to the classic dish as always. He'd incorporated root vegetables into the dish and substituted parsley for bay leaves, allowing for more depth in the flavour of the dish. Now, all he had to do was wait for the dish to reach its peak in terms of flavour. Five more minutes. That was all he needed.

He quickly sprinkled the onions onto the boeuf bourguignon before deeply inhaling in the scent of the dish, his every sense quivering with pleasure. The flavours coming from the pot were rich, deep, succulent. It pained him to put the lid down on this dish, but he knew that in five minutes from now, the aroma would become unbearably delicious. Tempting.

"Table 5 are seated," Gao announced, poking her head into the kitchen once again. "Party of three. One ordered boeuf bourguignon, another ordered ratatouille and the last guy ordered saumon grillé. All three want our finest red wine. Also, Table 4's close to finishing his appetiser. He's already specified that he also wants boeuf bourguignon."

Shinomiya nodded his head in acknowledgement. On the other stove, there was another pot of boeuf bourguignon which was being handled by Jacques. He'd practically beat the recipe into Jacques' brain before allowing him to get anywhere near that stove.

Wait.

"…and the last guy ordered saumon grillé…"

"Saumon grillé?" Shinomiya raised an eyebrow in Gao's direction. "That's not on the menu. It's saumon fumé."

"Uh… you sure about that, Chef? You explicitly specified saumon grillé earlier on today," Gao pointed out, a kind smile on her face as she held up both hands in what seemed to be an attempt to dispel Shinomiya's budding anger. "Something about how the recipe worked better when it was grilled rather than smoked."

"No, no, no. I didn't. Don't lie. This is fine dining, not McDonalds," Shinomiya snapped, his frustration flaring up at the mere thought of Gao assuming he would dare to put something as amateurish as saumon grillé on his menu. Saumon grillé. The level of disrespect…

"What the hell makes you think I'd put saumon grillé," Shinomiya practically spat, repeating the dish name once again before concluding his sentence with an emphatic "on my menu?"

"Uh… Chef, I hate to intervene, but the recette right here says saumon grillé," Marienne pointed out, jerking a thumb in the direction of the recipe list, where the words saumon grillé were emblazoned in dark, bold letters. "Maybe you just had a brain fart with your French. No big deal. We can just inform the tabl—"

"Marienne," Shinomiya coolly cut through her chatter, his eyes boring into hers. "Are you trying to imply that I made a mistake?"

She froze in her tracks. "W—Well…"

"It's no big deal," Gao said, waving her hands about as a chuckle left her lips. "Saumon fumé. We made a mistake. It's fine, Chef. Let's just carry on with the orders!"

There was still a ball of frustration nestled within Shinomiya, but… he was still in the kitchen. He didn't have time to bicker over whether he'd put saumon fumé or saumon grillé on the menu (though he was pretty fucking sure he'd specified that saumon fumé would be one of his classic dishes). Then again… one quick glance in the direction of his recettes told him that he'd put up the recette for saumon grillé.

Had he really fucked up? He — Shinomiya Kojirou — had fucked up?

Was it because of the sleep, maybe? He'd taken a nap at Hinako's suggestion, but his limbs felt so heavy and useless that he couldn't help but feel like he would've been better off without the extra sleep. He was still cooking just fine, still performing at top quality, but… what was happening to his mind? Why had he messed up one of his own recettes all of a sudden?

He was the head chef.

He was one of the few men in the world who had earned the privilege to wear the Pluspol medal.

When he'd come to France eleven years ago, the French had regarded him with amusement. They'd thought of him as a joke who could never understand the intricacies of French cuisine. Despite their belittlement of his ambitions, he was now one of the top chefs in the country. He had three Michelin stars. No-one was underestimating him anymore. They were all expecting quality dishes from him. His patrons, his peers, the media. To say that the expectations were crushing him would've been an understatement.

Those same expectations were causing his mental faculties to disintegrate.

But he couldn't let those expectations ruin him! He couldn't give into this stupid fatigue which was just lingering in his body, begging him to sleep, begging him to take a rest, begging him to do something except cooking. His body didn't know anything, damnit. It was his brain which was the mastermind behind all of these dishes. His body was nothing but a vessel to create these dishes, nothing less and nothing more. He wasn't going to give into this fatigue. He wasn't going to give into this stress. He couldn't. Not when he was so close to getting the Chef Robuchon to eat at his restaurant—

"Chef," Jacques called out, a look of alarm on his face. "The boeuf bourguignon!"

"Fuck," Shinomiya snapped, pulling the pot off the fire and onto the counter before lifting the lid. A hot rush of steam hit him in the face, though when it cleared away, Shinomiya could already tell that he'd cooked it for a minute too long. It still looked the same, but Shinomiya just knew that he'd fucked up. He knew. It didn't matter if there was no visible difference; it didn't matter if there was no perceptible change in the smell. He knew he'd made a mistake in his timing, and that knowledge alone was enough to throw him off. His nose was even inventing things now, telling him that the aroma was too heavy (the aroma hadn't changed in the slightest). He didn't care if the meat still looked succulent; he didn't care if the sauce looked deliciously supple and viscous in its pot. He didn't care if that one extra minute had somehow made his dish better.

He'd strayed from the rules of his own recipe, and that was tantamount to fucking up.

He'd been the first seat of the Elite Ten. First Japanese man to get the Pluspol award. First in his generation to acquire three Michelin Stars. All these firsts, and he couldn't even make boeuf bourguignon without fucking up? Boeuf bourguignon was a dish which all Totsuki students were required to make in their first year of high school. First year, and Shinomiya couldn't do it. Shinomiya couldn't fucking do it.

Who was he kidding?

Was he even worthy of wearing that Pluspol medal on his jacket anymore?

Of course he wasn't. He couldn't even develop an ultimate specialty—

"Chef."

The word was promptly followed by a firm slap on the back, causing Shinomiya to take a sharp inhalation of breath and wheel around to face the perpetrator. His own hand rose to protect himself by instinct, though when he realised that it was his sous chef stood in front of him, common sense finally flickered into his mind. With that, he quickly lowered his hand, though he didn't hesitate to take a step back.

"What the hell was that?"

"Please excuse my behaviour," Jacques pleaded. "But… I think you need to step out of the kitchen for a bit. You're clearly overwhelmed. As your sous chef, I'll handle things until you're feeling better."

"Do I look like I'm overwhelmed?"

"Well… yes," Jacques replied. "I—"

"So, not only are you trying to order me around, you're also making assumptions about me," Shinomiya coldly stated, his eyes molten as he continued to regard Jacques. "What is it with my staff tonight? Telling me I'm making mistakes, and now, I'm 'overwhelmed'. Not the nicest thing to say about your boss, is it?"

Jacques flinched, his shoulders hunching inwards as he took a slight step back from Shinomiya. "Chef, I wasn't trying to insult—"

"You should know your place, because it sure as hell isn't here," Shinomiya imposed, his eyes drifting in the direction of the kitchen doors before returning his gaze back to Jacques'. "Get out of my kitchen."

"Huh?" His eyes became wide with confusion. "B—But… but…"

"Did I stutter? Get the fuck out of my kitchen."

"Hey, wait, Chef," Marienne said, intervening with a hand wave. "You can't kick your sous chef out—"

"In all honesty, I'm sick and tired of hearing your voice too," Shinomiya snapped, shoving a menacing finger in Marienne's face before throwing it out in the direction of the kitchen doors. "Au fucking revoir. Consider yourself fired."

Jacques' frustration was evident through the jerky, unstable movements of his hands as he unravelled his neckerchief, laying it down on the counter. Marienne, on the other hand, had an expression of resignation on her face as she tugged her own neckerchief off, splaying it across the counter before running out of the kitchen, hands obscuring her eyes as the doors swung back and forth. Jacques left just as calmly as he'd entered, head held high as he strolled out through the swinging kitchen doors.

By the time the doors had stopped moving, silence had dawned in the kitchen. While Lucie was usually the most talkative member of the kitchen crew, she was deathly silent as she plated her ratatouille, not even daring to breathe too loud. When Gao poked her head in, it was with a reduced vigour, eyes not lingering on anyone for too long as she waited for Lucie to finish plating the ratatouille. To say that things were awkward would've been an understatement. Sure, silence was mostly commonplace in Shinomiya's kitchen, but not with half of his staff missing.

But… now that Shinomiya had done that, he couldn't allow himself to focus on the prospect of rest or his fear of failure. He was two people down, he still had quite a few orders left to deal with and most importantly, he wasn't happy with this boeuf bourguignon. He wouldn't let it leave this kitchen, not unless he could think of a solution. He'd never been in a situation like this — he'd always done everything to perfection. Always. Yet now… here he was, waiting for his brain to kick in with a solution.

Before, everything had seemed so loud. Stoves roaring. Knives chopping. Too many damn voices in this kitchen.

But now, there was silence. The gentle whirr of the fridge could be heard; the simmer of a low flame; the hush of feet moving about on the ground. The kitchen doors which were gently shutting as if to mark Gao's departure, beautifully-plated ratatouille in hand.

Then, finally, Shinomiya's right hand which was slowly reaching for a pot of fresh, warmed honey.

Even though no-one had opened their mouth to speak, the silence within Shinomiya's mind shattered once more as a familiar voice slithered its way through, just as tantalisingly beautiful as it had been the last time Shinomiya had heard it.

* * *

_"Hey, Senpai. You know what a useful trick for meat is?"_

_Shinomiya raised an eyebrow at the redhead who was rifling through his fridge, though he eventually let out a "go on, then". He couldn't help but think that Yukihira had way too much energy, given that it was way past one o'clock in the morning. Only Yukihira could get this enthusiastic about playing what he liked to call 'Treasure Hunt: Fridge Edition'._

_"Okay, okay… you ready for it? Here goes," Yukihira announced. "Honey!"_

_As if on cue, Yukihira emerged from behind the fridge door with a fresh jar of honey, a triumphant grin on his face as he shut the door and trotted over to where Shinomiya was sitting with his coffee._

_"Honey saved me from getting an F in my first Totsuki class," Yukihira recalled, setting the jar of honey down on the counter as he swung his legs onto the bar stool. He was directly opposite Shinomiya, regarding him with those impossibly golden eyes of his. "So, if you ever need to make your meat tender, put honey on it. I'm about to see if it works for calamari. Wanna taste?"_

_"No." Shinomiya wrinkled his nose at Yukihira, though he couldn't help the smile which had begun to stretch across his lips. "You're crazy, idiot."_

_"Come on. I'll give you a kiss first," Yukihira proposed, twisting the lid off before dipping a finger in and spreading the golden liquid around his lips as if it were lip balm. "Honey kisses. How's that sound?"_

_"Sticky," he replied, narrowly dodging Yukihira's attempts to peck him on the lips._

_"But it's fun, right? Come on, Senpai, you need to live a little more," Yukihira insisted. "It might be sticky, but hey. It's a new experience, right?"_

_Shinomiya rolled his eyes. "Go on then. I'll take that honey kiss."_

_Yukihira stretched a hand out towards his cheek, gently sliding down to the curve of his jaw as he pulled him in closer. Meanwhile, his other hand was sliding Shinomiya's glasses off his face, setting them down on the counter with a gentle 'tap'. Then, at a tantalisingly slow pace, Yukihira's lips began to sink into his own, engulfing them in the sickly sweet taste of honey._

* * *

"Lucie," Shinomiya said, snapping back into head chef mode. "The salmon's already been grilled, hasn't it?"

"Oui," she replied. "Lightly grilled like the recette says. I can prepare a smoked version though—"

"Marinate it with the honey and soy sauce mix," Shinomiya ordered, fighting the urge to let out a sigh as events from this afternoon appeared in his mind, events in which he'd evaluated the taste between saumon grillé and saumon fumé before concluding that his special honey and soy sauce marinade actually tasted better with saumon grillé. Just like Marienne had reminded him.

"Oui, Chef! Anything else?"

"Ratatouille," he said. "I want you to get on that the second you're done with the saumon grillé."

"Oui, Chef!"

Dish after dish, balance returned to the SHINO's kitchen. Happy customers were leaving with full stomachs, orders were coming out at a timely pace and most importantly, Shinomiya was back on his game. Somehow, during the deliberation stage of making his boeuf bourguignon, it had never dawned on him to include honey in the recipe. Honey was the magic ingredient, the fix-all, the 'flavour boost'.

Now that his boeuf bourguignon had honey, it was practically invincible.

"Gao," Shinomiya said, lifting up his metallic tray. "Here's the boeuf bourguignon for Table 4 and 5. Take it out."

"Oui, Chef!"

* * *

When Gao finally popped her head into the kitchen to announce that the last customer had left the restaurant, Shinomiya couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh of relief as he leaned a hand against the marble counter. This shift had been difficult, even more difficult than he was accustomed to. It was one thing to deal with the usual hustle and bustle of a French kitchen, but it was another thing entirely to deal with his own emotional baggage weighing him down in the kitchen.

It was a little strange though. He hadn't thought about Yukihira in a while, and even so, that memory had actually helped him rather than hindered him.

"Also, Chef? Doujima-san says he's waiting for you," Gao commented, a giddy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Wants to talk to you about 'business'."

"Look at you! You're blushing," Lucie trilled, enthusiastically slapping Gao's cheeks. "You've got it bad."

"I'm not blushing. I'm just hot," she insisted, grabbing both of Lucie's wrists in an attempt to stop them from flapping around. "I've been running back and forth with dishes and it's boiling in here. Give me a break."

"Oh, come on. I—"

"Tell him I'll be out in a tick," Shinomiya smoothly interjected, breaking the flow of their conversation. He'd been subjected to many a gossip session about his fellow Totsuki alumni by Gao and Lucie, so Shinomiya really didn't feel like undergoing yet another one.

Gao practically zoomed out of the kitchen while Lucie chuckled, approaching the sink before making a start on the dishes. Shinomiya's eyes followed her, and for a moment, there was a flicker of regret in his mind. Washing the dishes had originally been Marienne's job — hell, she'd loved washing the dishes. Shinomiya knew that he'd been rash tonight. Really rash. But, the regret crumbled away just as quickly as it had formed, leaving Shinomiya with a clear conscience. He'd gotten all his dishes out on time, he'd gotten zero complaints as usual and most importantly, he'd managed to make his boeuf bourguignon dish even better. In terms of business, tonight had been a major success (even if he was two kitchen staff down).

"I'm going to assume you've calmed down now," Lucie said after a long silence. "Please don't fire me for saying this, but… that was pretty shitty of you."

"You're fired."

Lucie's head whipped around to face Shinomiya, who had a stoic expression on his face. When Shinomiya's lips didn't move to say anything else, she reached to turn the tap off before turning her attention back over to him, taking a few steps towards him.

"Seriously?"

"No, I'm kidding."

Shinomiya raised an eyebrow at her in wry amusement, a slight quirk appearing on his lips as he watched Lucie letting out a long exhalation of relief, hand on her chest as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Thank God," she exhaled, closing her eyes for a few seconds before opening them once again. "There's no way I could find another job that pays as much as this one does. Besides… I really respect you. I wouldn't be as enthusiastic working for any other chef, y'know. You hired me straight after I finished my stint at my cooking academy, so this kitchen's all I've ever known."

Shinomiya let out a hum in response.

"Seriously, though. You need to work on your sarcasm," she said, a teasing demeanour in her voice as she came to stand opposite him. "Your voice literally didn't change or anything."

Shinomiya let out a half-chuckle. "That's the point."

At that point, Gao re-entered the room and quickly advanced towards Lucie, the two of them entering into some sort of girl talk that Shinomiya wasn't privy to. Shinomiya decided to remove his hand from the counter, using it to wipe some forehead sweat off his face before turning towards the set of double doors. He'd been about to walk through, but upon realising that both Gao and Lucie had become silent, he turned back towards them.

"I'll take this chance to remind you two that you're here to cook, not to listen into my conversations."

With sheepish expressions on their faces, they let out an unenthusiastic "oui, Chef".

On that note, Shinomiya walked out of the kitchen and towards Table 2 where a clean-shaven man was waiting with a somewhat serious expression on his face. He was chewing with his eyes closed, though when Shinomiya pulled out a chair, Doujima's eyes opened to appraise him.

"This boeuf bourguignon," Doujima began. "It's… different. I can't quite place this taste."

"Kombu, honey, and a whole lot of love," Shinomiya replied, earning himself a chuckle from Doujima. He proceeded to slide into the seat opposite Doujima before sitting up straight and resting both palms on the table. He wanted nothing more than to lay his head down and delve into a world of dreams, but he was still in head chef mode. He couldn't relax, not until Doujima got up and left the restaurant.

"I was a little worried, considering I've been hearing some rumours about you going off the rails, but… it seems like I have nothing to worry about in regards to your cooking," Doujima said, letting out a contented sigh as he pushed the plate to the centre of the table. It had been completely cleared of its contents. "This dish was definitely that of a Totsuki graduate. Your use of kombu… it's hardly surprising. Kombu is more or less unheard of in France, yet, it's as if it belongs in your dish. My palate's more than satisfied."

Shinomiya smiled. "That means a lot. Really."

"Why? It's something that you should already know," Doujima said, his facial expression impassive as he continued to regard Shinomiya. "According to your peers, you've never been one for humility."

Somehow, Shinomiya knew that 'peers' was code for 'Hinako'.

"I've heard about the news. Joel Robuchon, huh?" Doujima let out a small chuckle. "That should be enough to give you some more purpose. Well, if Cooking Monthly calling you their 'Chef of the Year' wasn't enough."

"Really? I haven't been reading it," Shinomiya replied, letting out an appreciative hum. "That's pretty nice of them. Chef of the Year."

Doujima's facial expression soured. "You're telling me you didn't know? It was all over the media! You beat out all of the newer Totsuki nominees too! You even beat the person who was the favourite to win!"

"Well, that explains why SHINO's has been consistently booked out since the start of this year," Shinomiya said, thinking back to all the times he'd opened up reservations on the SHINO's website only for them to be snatched up within minutes. "I was wondering where all the traffic was coming from. Hmm… who was the favourite? One of the Nakiris?"

"Nope. The Nakiris were in the female category. Alice was the favourite to win, but Hisako won instead. That was a huge upset," Doujima replied. "You won the male category, obviously, but the favourite to win was Yukihira Souma, if I recall correctly. Yeah. It was Yukihira."

At the sound of that name, Shinomiya heard a collective "oof" from Gao and Lucie, who had decided to defy his strict orders and listen into his conversation from behind the set of double doors. In usual circumstances, Shinomiya would've turned and snapped at them to go home — after all, the restaurant was closed for business now — but all he could do was let an awkward expression settle onto his face as he mumbled an "oh, right" in response.

"According to the official judges behind Cooking Monthly, they'd originally agreed that Yukihira would be the likely winner. But then you came out with a stream of specialty dishes and stole the momentum, so when it came to judging… you more or less crushed the competition. The official comment was 'Chef Yukihira's new and exciting, but Chef Shinomiya's an evolving monster who's still hungry for more'. You're telling me you didn't hear about any of this?"

"Nope," Shinomiya replied. "I've been taking a social media detox and focusing on my restaurant, so I really couldn't tell you anything about what's been going on in the cooking world this year. If it didn't happen in my restaurant, I don't know about it."

"Hmm. Does that mean someone else is on the SHINO account?"

"Yeah. Lucie's in charge of that account."

"Wee-hee! Shoutout to me," Lucie quipped from behind the door. Shinomiya rolled his eyes, but didn't bother turning his head to tell her and Gao to stop listening into his conversation. Doujima let out a hearty chuckle at her enthusiasm before continuing to speak.

"Well, your detox seems to be working out. Your cooking's better than ever," Doujima said. "With that said, I think you'd benefit from a small break. Like you said, SHINO's has been fully booked since the beginning of the year. You changed your working hours so that you're open every day, including weekends. That leaves you with virtually no time to rest, right? It's only a matter of time before that begins to take its toll on you. I know we're chefs, but even chefs meet their limit sooner or later."

"Well, I can assure you of one thing: you don't need to worry about me. I'm doing fine," Shinomiya said, forcing a chuckle out. "You said it yourself. My cooking's better than ever. Why would I stop when I'm in the best years of my career?"

"Well… I'm saying this because I watched the exact same thing happen to Jouichirou. Yukihira's father," Doujima explained, a tone of regret leaking into his voice. "People kept piling expectations on top of him, and while he was still trying to have fun with his cooking… it eventually got to the point where he couldn't take it anymore, so he left Totsuki. Never graduated. He was easily the best chef of our generation, but… he couldn't take the pressure. And I blame myself for not realising sooner. So, I'm here to stop history from repeating itself. Take a break, Shinomiya. You need it, and I don't plan to give you a choice in the matter."

As if to emphasise his point, he rose to his feet before continuing to speak.

"Remember my little intervention four years ago when you lost your purpose to cook? Call this something similar," Doujima proposed, tucking his chair underneath his table. "Though, let's hope you're not driven to call me 'nothing more than a hired Totsuki chef' this time around."

Shinomiya cringed, his eyes reluctantly raising to meet Doujima's. "Ugh. Do you plan to keep bringing that up?"

"Well, maybe I'll let it go if you come with me willingly," Doujima replied, holding up a crisp-looking plane ticket.

"Damn, I wish he'd whisk me away too," Gao lamented in the background, though her face disappeared behind the double doors when Shinomiya shot a dark glare in her direction. He could still hear the ladies gossiping about how attractive Doujima was from beyond the door, causing him to let out a sigh of exasperation. Doujima, on the other hand, didn't seem to be too bothered by that particular discussion. His usually stoic lips had quirked up ever-so-slightly, though he still had a serious expression on his face.

"The plane leaves tomorrow evening, six o'clock," Doujima continued, eyes darting over to the nearby wall clock. "I've got a trusted Totsuki chef who's going to watch over SHINO's during your absence. Free of charge. Consider it a good deed from me."

"Wait, wait, wait," Shinomiya said, holding up his hands in an attempt to get Doujima to slow down. "I get what you're saying about Jouichirou-san, but… I'm not stressed out. I'm in complete control of my kitchen—"

"In this shift alone, I saw two of your employees walking towards the exit with teary eyes and balled-up fists," Doujima interjected, his gaze falling upon Shinomiya's once more. "I found it peculiar, so I called one of them over. Jacques. Turns out, you've been off your game for quite a while."

"That's not—"

"I'm not done speaking."

Shinomiya sat there with his jaw clenched, wondering whether he could try and get in a few words or not. But, he eventually gave up and nodded his head, allowing Doujima to continue speaking.

"I'm not trying to tell you how to run your kitchen. But, I'd say that it's a prerequisite that you should know whether you're serving smoked salmon or grilled salmon to your customers. It's also a prerequisite that you should take responsibility for your own messes rather than pretending they didn't happen. To be frank, I don't understand how you can call that control," Doujima said, eyes steely. "That's not control. That's unprofessionalism."

Shinomiya's jaw was clenched so tight that it was starting to feel uncomfortable. It didn't help that he could hear Lucie and Gao "ooo"-ing in the background. He didn't interrupt though — he sat there and let Doujima finish speaking.

"Be honest. Do you think the way you acted tonight was fair to your staff?"

Shinomiya didn't respond. Not because he was at a loss for words, but because he couldn't bear to admit that he'd been in the wrong. It was easy enough for him to agonise about these things on the inside, but verbalising his wrongs? That was a whole other battlefield that Shinomiya was reluctant to set foot in. While he could technically justify his actions by saying they'd defied his authority as head chef… it wasn't the truth. Was it?

"I did what needed to be done," Shinomiya said after a long pause.

"Even at the cost of a healthy kitchen atmosphere?"

Shinomiya found himself thinking back to how his kitchen had once been. A warm, happy environment where they'd all taken turns cooking lunch for one another, clinking wine glasses and smiling. The kitchen shifts had still been tough, but Shinomiya had always been able to look forward to closing hour where things would slow down, the last customer would leave and then they'd bring out the wine.

Now, it was all strictly work. Nothing less, nothing more.

"You're right," Shinomiya said after a long pause. A relieved expression appeared on Doujima's face, though it quickly turned to exasperation when Shinomiya spoke the second part of his sentence. "You shouldn't be telling me how to run my kitchen."

"Somehow, you've become even more stubborn over the years," Doujima remarked, letting out a heavy sigh. "Fine. Would I be able to change your mind if I told you that Hinako's on the brink of closing her restaurant down?"

Shinomiya's mind went blank. "Huh?"

A twinkle appeared in Doujima's eyes, almost as if he were a bird which had sensed its prey.

"There was a reunion last month for the Elite Ten members, past and present. Hinako announced that she'd be shutting her restaurant at the end of this year and leaving the profession," Doujima explained, causing Shinomiya's jaw to drop. "She didn't say why, but from what I can understand… she's been under a lot of stress."

"She… she never said anything about this to me," Shinomiya said after a pause, jaw hanging open as realisation seeped further and further into his brain. Hinako hadn't been asking him to come down to Japan just to 'hang out' like he'd originally believed. It had been a cry for help, and Shinomiya had ignored her.

"It's a shame, really," Doujima said, leaning a hand against the table as he maintained eye contact with Shinomiya. "It would've been nice if you could've gone to help her out, but hey. Your kitchen comes first, right? Too bad you don't need a break…"

An unimpressed expression appeared on Shinomiya's face.

"You don't need to do the 'reverse psychology' thing, Doujima-san. I'll go."

An amused smile tugged at Doujima's lips. "Hmm? That so?"

"Don't look so smug about it. I'm going to help Hinako. That's all," Shinomiya said. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder if Hinako would even be willing to let him come anywhere within a fifty-mile radius of her restaurant. Probably not.

"Great. I'll tell her you'll be coming to help her for the weekend," he said. "After—"

"Wait," Shinomiya said, raising a hand to grab his attention. "Don't tell her it's me."

Doujima raised an eyebrow. "Why not? I'm sure she wouldn't have any objections."

Shinomiya held his gaze, though he didn't elaborate upon his statement.

"Okay. I'll tell her that a guest is coming to help out for the weekend. Happy?"

Shinomiya nodded.

"Great," Doujima said. "After the weekend, I'd like if you came down to Totsuki for the day. There's some high-scale Shokugeki that need judges. Then, after that… it's up to you what you choose to do. You could help out at her restaurant for a bit. You could go around Totsuki, oversee a few classes if you want to feel more like a celebrity for a bit. You can even fly back if you want."

The look on Doujima's face was saying "but I know you won't". It kind of pissed Shinomiya off, mainly because it was true. It was easy enough to ignore his own deterioration, but he'd be damned if he stood back and allowed Hinako to crash and burn. He was going to get on that flight and he was going to return to Japan. Not because he needed a break — he was still adamant that he could cope without a break — but because he wanted to help Hinako get back on track.

"Tell me more about this chef who's going to be taking over in my absence," Shinomiya said.

"Sure. The chef who I've enlisted to act as head chef in your absence is a man who trained directly under a number of top French chefs before going on to open his own restaurant — 'La Mente' — which has consistently been in the worldwide top 50 restaurants list despite not being open all year around. That's a feat that not even SHINO's has achieved yet," Doujima pointed out with yet another twinkle in his eye. "This chef has been in the game for decades, and he's even competed in the Ballon d'Or. So, trust me. He'll be able to run your kitchen just fine while you're gone."

Shinomiya sat there and thought to himself for some moments, balancing the pros and cons. He didn't doubt Doujima's chef-picking ability. His kitchen would be safe in his absence. He could reach out to Marienne and Jacques at some point and sort things out. And, most importantly, it would give him a chance to begin making up for the way he'd been treating Hinako these past few months. That alone trumped every other pro he could think of.

"Is he hot?" Lucie called out.

"Yeah, tell us," Gao quipped. "Luce, that could be your next man."

Shinomiya's head whipped around to face Lucie and Gao, his facial expression souring as he uttered two words, each and every syllable laced with pure, nuclear irritation.

"Go home."

The two ladies exchanged glances before nodding simultaneously and disappearing behind the double doors yet again, this time for good. He could hear some shuffling about, but it wasn't long before he heard the sound of the back door clicking shut. With a heavy sigh, Shinomiya turned to face Doujima, who was still chuckling at the ladies' antics.

"You don't need to convince me anymore. I'll go," Shinomiya concluded.

With a nod of the head, Doujima placed the plane ticket down on the table and began to walk towards the door. He pulled the handle open and walked out through the doorway, though he turned around to issue one final message to Shinomiya:

"I'll see you at the airport tomorrow evening. Six o'clock."


	2. Wa-Shocking

Chapter Two: Washocking

"Hey, Chef!"

It was around noontime when the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Lucie ran into the dining room to greet Shinomiya, who had just arrived, suitcase in hand. Shinomiya offered a wave of the hand in response, extending the gesture when he noticed Gao hovering behind Lucie.

"So," Lucie prompted, eyes drifting over to the watch on her wrist. "What time are you leaving for the airport?"

"As soon as the chef arrives."

"Okay," she sang out. "By the way… Jacques said he's dropping by today since he left his trainers in the staff room."

"I need to speak to him, actually," Shinomiya remarked, more to himself than to Lucie. He'd almost forgotten that he'd fired his sous chef — heavy emphasis on almost. It probably wasn't the best time to go sous chef hunting when he had Robuchon coming by in a month. Besides, in all honesty… it wasn't like Jacques was a bad sous chef. He'd just been unlucky enough to end up being a victim of Shinomiya's frustration.

Still, Shinomiya believed he could remedy the situation.

"He mention a time?" Shinomiya asked.

"Nope," Lucie replied, pulling her phone out and tapping about on the screen until she located the relevant message. "He just said he'd drop by. I asked him if he'd messaged you. He said 'no'. I asked why. He said 'cause'. I asked 'cause what'. He said 'cause I can't be the perfect sous chef'. I asked—"

"Chef asked for a time, not for the entire conversation," Gao interjected. Lucie frowned at her, a slight pout forming on her lips, while Shinomiya nodded to himself. At Jacques' age… emotions were fragile. Confidence was even more fragile. And though Shinomiya wasn't quite ready to admit he'd been in the wrong this time around, he still needed to speak to Jacques at some point. He couldn't lose yet _another_ sous chef. Especially if the sous chef hadn't actually done anything wrong.

"Thanks," Shinomiya said. "I'm going to phone Doujima to see when this chef's going to arrive. Have you two done the prep for today yet?"

Lucie and Gao nodded. "We're done. We're making lunch now. It's nothing much, just mapo tofu. You want some?"

Shinomiya let out a hum. "Yeah, sure. Just give me a second."

The two of them flounced back off into the kitchen, leaving Shinomiya to make his phone call. He left his suitcase nearby the door as he stepped back out, leaning against the wall as he scrolled through his contacts. He'd been about to press down on Doujima's name, but paused when he sensed movement in the corner of his eyes. From the left, there was a flash of red.

_Yukihira?_

The thought was quickly killed when Shinomiya realised that the face didn't match the hair. And now that he was paying attention to the hair, the style was completely different. The only thing which matched was the colour. Nothing less, nothing more. Judging by the small suitcase the man was carrying, along with his attire, Shinomiya presumed that this was the chef Doujima had been talking about. Shinomiya was ashamed to admit that he'd never heard of this chef in his life, but the man standing before him certainly had the appearance of one. Just from the way he held himself, Shinomiya could tell he'd spent many of his best years under the heat of a kitchen.

"Chef Shinomiya," the man said, offering a polite nod in greeting. "It's an honour to meet you. I'm Eric Karlsson. I believe Chef Doujima told you about me?"

There was a brief silence that passed between the two of them as Shinomiya set his phone back down in his pocket, silently appraising Eric's face. Eric's blue eyes were earnest — the tell-tale marks of fatigue were etched beneath his eyes in the form of dark shadows — and his smile held no ulterior motive.

"Yes," Shinomiya replied. "He did."

"Great. Well…"

"Come in," Shinomiya said, stepping back and holding the door open for Eric to enter. Eric did just that, a polite smile on his face as he did so. He wandered around the restaurant, his gaze passing over the red walls and overhead lights.

"The décor's nice," Eric remarked, turning his attention back to Shinomiya.

"Thanks," Shinomiya replied.

There was a somewhat uncomfortable pause in conversation as the two men stood in the centre of the room, Shinomiya tapping his fingers against the side of his leg. Eric's eyes darted back and forth about the room, seemingly searching for a topic of conversation. The silence between them was broken by none other than Lucie Hugo, who burst into the room to yell "hey, Chef! I…oh..."

She drifted off upon spotting Eric.

"…new guy," she blurted, her cheeks going a shade of pink. "Well, that's one way to introduce myself. Lucie Hugo. Nice to meet your acquaintance. I promise I'm not usually that loud."

"That's not even the saying. It's _make_ your acquaintance," Shinomiya muttered, clicking his tongue in annoyance when Lucie pretended not to hear him.

"Nice to meet you," Eric calmly replied, moving forwards to shake Lucie's hand. "Eric Karlsson."

Lucie grinned. "D'you want to go meet Gao? She's amazing. You'll like her. Matter of fact," she said, gripping his hand as she began to lead him in the direction of the kitchen, "I think you'd be her type. European, blue eyes, culinary background… yeah, you're perfect!"

"I'm a married man."

"Oh, come on. Marriage never stopped anyone—"

"_Lucie_," Shinomiya sharply interjected. "I think you should go and finish the prep for now."

"But I already fini—"

"Finish it again."

Thankfully, Lucie got the message and quickly vacated the room, leaving a relieved Eric to lean a hand on one table, all the while casting a grateful look in Shinomiya's direction.

"Sorry," Shinomiya said after a pause. "They might be a handful. Their kitchen work is extremely efficient though."

"That's fine," Eric replied, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "This seems like it'll be an interesting month. Life in the kitchen of a top French chef like you. I suppose it'll be different to a Swedish kitchen, huh?"

"I wouldn't call myself 'top'. I've still got a long way to go," Shinomiya insisted. The knowledge that he still couldn't find his new specialty dish festered in the back of his mind. Without that dish, he couldn't let anyone call him 'top'. He wasn't. Not until he could develop a dish that would take the cooking world by storm.

"No need to be humble," Eric insisted. "We're both professionals here."

Shinomiya simply let out a hum — neither agreeing nor disagreeing — before changing the topic to business. He gave a brief run-through of how he liked his restaurant to be run — detailing the way the tablecloth should be set out, the frequency at which the plants should be watered and even the light intensity of the bulbs which hung from the ceiling. It wasn't until Eric interrupted by clearing his throat that Shinomiya realised he'd been speaking for ten minutes straight.

"I can tell you care deeply about your restaurant," Eric said carefully. "But, like I said. We're both professionals here. Your other staff are here to teach me the ropes. They've been with you long enough, right?"

Shinomiya nodded.

"In that case… I don't think you should be so worried. I know I've just gotten here, but they seem to be a capable bunch of ladies. That food in the kitchen smells pretty good. What is that, mapo tofu?"

_Impressive_, Shinomiya thought to himself. _He was able to tell just from the smell_.

"Yes, it is," Shinomiya replied.

"Wow. Chinese dishes being created in a French kitchen," Eric murmured, letting out a low whistle. "I'm even more excited now. Trust me. Your kitchen's in good hands, Chef Shinomiya. You don't need to worry. I might not be as well-versed in French cuisine as you, but that doesn't mean I'm inept."

"Of course. I wouldn't want to imply that," Shinomiya said, suddenly worried that he'd offended Eric without realising. Sure, Shinomiya went around offending people a lot of the time, but he couldn't exactly offend the guy who he was leaving his restaurant to for an entire month, _right_?

It was at that moment Shinomiya's phone began to buzz in his pocket.

"Sorry. I need to take this call," Shinomiya said, moving towards the door. "Feel free to explore the kitchen if you like."

"Sure." A kind smile flashed on Eric's lips. "It was nice meeting you, Chef."

"You too."

* * *

It wasn't long before Shinomiya set off for the airport, and while a small part of him had been fearing the state of his restaurant (it had been a _very_ long time since he'd left other people to deal with his SHINO's) his concerns had been mostly quelled by the time he'd stepped onto the plane. Making his way over to his business class seat, he was pleasantly surprised to see it was more of a _bed_ than a seat. It was reclined about halfway so that his head was in a comfortable position to view an interactive screen. The screen itself was flashing with all the movie and TV shows it offered.

He'd never flown with this airline before, but now all he could do was wonder _why_ it had taken him so long to discover that plane beds were a thing. He was quick to lie down, allowing his head to sink into the pillow beneath him as another hand reached towards his armrest, one finger accidentally skimming against a button. The leather beneath him began to heat up, much to his surprise.

_ Just how much did Doujima-san pay for this?_

A frown settled onto his lips at the mere thought of the price tag for a flight like this. Not to say that he couldn't afford it — he was Shinomiya Kojirou — but he didn't exactly like it when other people spent exorbitant amounts of money on him. Then again, he had a feeling that this was all coming out of Totsuki's budget. Their budget was virtually limitless, so that made it okay, right? Yeah. Of course it did.

Shinomiya's eyes began to drift shut, almost as if weighed down by the fatigue of these past few months. It was a little strange. He'd spent the past few months more or less blocking out any and all tiredness he felt, but lying down now, the exhaustion hit him like a relentless wave. Inch by inch, his eyes were closing and his mind was filling with images, distant memories which would most likely drift by in his dreams.

The stress in his body was lessening, little by little. The aching in his feet was beginning to subside. His fingers were relaxing, one by one. It wasn't long before his arms were like metal poles laying inert on either side of his body. Each and every one of his limbs was beginning to doze off, even despite the murmurings of conversations around him and the bright lights. His body had been waiting months — _months _— for a rest. Nothing would stop Shinomiya from relaxing now. Nothing.

"Chef Shinomiya!_ Bonjour_," an unfamiliar voice trilled right in his ear. "Can I get an autograph, please? I'm a huge fan of yours!"

Shinomiya didn't even bother to crack an eye open in response.

So, the owner of the voice responded by shaking his shoulder to the point it was beginning to feel like a mini earthquake. Shinomiya's body was just too tired to try and wrestle the hand off his shoulder, and in all honesty, he just didn't have the energy to get pissed off (though he most likely would've gone on a rant in any other circumstance).

Fortunately enough, there was a familiar voice which intervened.

"You should probably leave him to sleep," Doujima said. "He's tired."

"Wait, you're Gin Doujima! Oh my God, oh my God," the other voice said, excitement brimming in their tone. "Can _you_ give me an autograph?"

"Sure."

The two voices soon became distant, leaving Shinomiya to get his sleep. He wasn't as immersed in his dream world as before — he was much more aware of the voices around him, voices which were saying "Chef Shinomiya's over there, you reckon I should get an autograph?"

It wasn't long before said voices approached him, asking for autographs. While Shinomiya tried to ignore them at first, it eventually became apparent that sleep had eluded him — yet again — in favour of dealing with fame.

With a heavy yawn, he cracked an eye open to scrutinise the person (or rather, people) who were interrupting his sleep. There were three young females — maybe in their early twenties? — with cameras around their necks. _Probably journalists_. They were all jumping from foot to foot with what seemed like excitement (though to Shinomiya, it seemed more like they were in desperate need of a toilet break) and they were burbling in French as they began to thrust their pens and papers in his face.

He seized one pen and scribbled 'Chef Shinomiya' as quickly as his sleepy hand would allow him to on one notebook before it was snatched out of his hand with a loud squee of "Thank you!"

It wasn't long before Shinomiya had people lining up for autographs, much to his displeasure. He couldn't help but think that this entire situation was akin to trying to swat flies away — he'd swat one away, and two would appear. Two became four, and four soon became forty. Sure, there weren't actually forty people, but it sure felt that way. Hell, even the _flight attendants_ had joined the line. Even if Shinomiya managed to finish signing all of these autographs, there was no way he'd be able to get to sleep. His mind was too active, his hands were doing too much movement and most importantly, he was going to need several glasses of red wine after dealing with this many people.

"Ooh, by the way, any chance we could do a quick interview with you here? I've just got a few questions to ask you," one of the journalist women burbled, rolling out her list of notes. The list was so long that loops of paper were beginning to pile up on the ground. "First question: what's your favourite food?"

Shinomiya's only response was a sigh.

"…alright, you don't have a favourite. Okay… okay… alright, second question? Actually, let's skip to question fifty-three—"

"No," Shinomiya interjected. "Just no. Fuck _off_."

"But I didn't even…"

Her voice drifted off when she caught sight of his glare. She seemed visibly spooked as she withdrew from his field of vision at last, along with the other passengers who had caught wind of his less-than-savoury mood. He was still aware of people snapping pictures of him, quietly gossiping around him. Sure, there weren't _that_ many — after all, he was flying business class — but it didn't change the fact that they were still there.

Sometimes, Shinomiya found himself wishing he could be less famous.

It was merely a fleeting thought, but it was a thought that passed his mind nevertheless.

* * *

"I've never actually seen Hinako's restaurant before," Shinomiya murmured to himself, looking down at the scrap piece of paper in his right hand. Upon departing the plane after a gruelling fourteen-hour flight full of turbulence and autographs, Doujima had left him with a hastily-drawn map and the address of the place before going on his merry way to Totsuki. While Doujima's map was better than nothing, navigation had never been Shinomiya's strong suit. If he'd been in Tokyo, then he might've been able to navigate with more ease, but he was in Osaka. He really didn't come down to Osaka that often, if at all.

Besides, Shinomiya really couldn't remember Hinako having a restaurant in Osaka. He could've sworn that her restaurant had originally been in Tokyo…

Well, it didn't matter. He was pretty sure he was lost.

He was surrounded by trees, and Doujima's vertical lines drawn in fading charcoal weren't exactly much help in a situation like this. Shinomiya couldn't sense any life around him whatsoever — at least, not human life. He could hear birds chirping and see bright flowers blossoming around broad tree trunks, but he couldn't sense much else.

"Fuck's sake," Shinomiya grumbled, crumpling the frustratingly useless note up and tossing it to one side. "I can't find—"

"Hey."

Shinomiya almost jumped out of his skin when a small woman in a kimono slid out from behind a tree, her moves so fluid that it was as if she were one with the nature around her. Shinomiya was struck by how strange the view was. The woman's kimono was golden - something that Shinomiya associated with shining palaces and gleaming empires rather than humble-looking forests — but strangely enough, it felt like she belonged. Despite her regality — or perhaps, _because_ of her regality — she was at home in this foresty place.

She was also giving Shinomiya a dirty look. _Oops_.

"You shouldn't litter. It's a forest, not a bin," she chided, gracefully bending her knees as if to curtsy to the tree. She then retrieved the crumpled note which had fallen on top of a cluster of leaves. A serene expression crossed her face as she righted herself and murmured something to the tree before turning back and placing the note into Shinomiya's hand.

"Uh… okay," Shinomiya replied, a little weirded out by her demeanour.

"I assume you're the guest," she continued, gliding across the forest floor to retrieve a small, homemade basket which was bursting with an assortment of truffles. "Inui-senpai's expecting you. Follow me."

He did as he was told, his eyes grazing over tall trees and bright flowers with each step he took. The journey to the restaurant was made in relative silence, Shinomiya feeling decidedly inelegant as his feet trampled over the leaves. In contrast, the woman's delicate footsteps were nearly impossible to sense. If not for the fact that a little 'tap' could be heard every so often, Shinomiya would've genuinely believed that she was somehow floating above the forest floor.

"I'm Nakahara, and I'm in charge of looking after the forest," she explained, finally breaking the silence between them. "I've been working with Inui-senpai for seven years, not just as a gardener but as an advisor. She doesn't always follow my advice though. I told her that letting some hoity-toity Totsuki chef into Kirinoya would be a bad idea, but she didn't listen…"

If Shinomiya had been feeling like his usual self, he would've done three things in the following order: one, make fun of this woman for using the term 'hoity-toity' in a completely serious manner. Two, say "if I was her, I wouldn't take your advice either". And three, point out that Hinako was also a 'hoity-toity Totsuki chef'.

But… Shinomiya wasn't feeling like his usual self. He was feeling incredibly guilty about his blindness to Hinako's problems, he was exhausted from the fourteen-hour flight and he was stressed out over his ultimate specialty dish. Taking the piss out of this Nakahara woman might've given him some relief… but what was the point?

"Anyways," Nakahara said. "Kirinoya is up ahead, just past the flowers."

She pointed her finger in the direction of a flower arch where colourful buds and leaves were creeping and curling, accompanied by a cluster of mystical-looking vines.

"Inui-senpai said I should give you a tour while she finishes up in the kitchen, but I don't really like you so far, so don't ask me."

Shinomiya let out a heavy sigh. "That's hardly professional, is it?"

"Don't care. I don't like litterers," Nakahara replied, her lips set in a thin line as she stepped through the flower arch and onto a leaf-free floor. There were cobblestones on the ground, and now that Shinomiya was closer, he could hear the sound of water running. A running stream, perhaps. Did Hinako have her own supply of fish in this forest?

"Well, can you at least tell me how things work in this place? I'm curious."

Nakahara kept her lips pressed together.

"Listen," Shinomiya began, abruptly pausing in his stride in an attempt to grab Nakahara's attention. She didn't even bother to turn her head to face him. Instead, she approached a sliding door and began to remove her shoes as if he wasn't there.

"I'm sorry for littering," Shinomiya continued, following her to slip his own shoes off, "but I'm not going to apologise for existing. You don't like me. Fine. But, Hinako told you to show me around, so I suggest you do your job. I haven't travelled fourteen hours just to be ignored by some kid."

Nakahara's head whipped around, and as hasty as the action was, there was still a semblance of grace in the motion. Her blonde locks hadn't shifted an inch away from her shoulders, and while her face was still the mirror image of serenity, her green eyes had narrowed together ever so slightly.

"I am _not_ a kid," she snapped, her angelic tone becoming something much more sinister. "Don't talk down to me. I'll kick you out! I'll tell Inui-senpai never to let you come back. I'll… I'll… _grr_…"

Shinomiya decided to walk past her and into the restaurant entrance without a care in the world, turning to face her when she didn't follow in after him.

"Come on, _kid_. I'm waiting."

Her face contorted, revealing an expression which looked as if she'd just swallowed a raw lemon. Shinomiya hadn't even been intending to rile her up, but he'd been unable to help himself after seeing how annoyed she got by the word 'kid'. Her insistence that she wasn't a kid just made it worse.

Another low growl of irritation left Nakahara's lips as she continued to glare at Shinomiya, not even attempting to hide her disdain for him at this point. However, the staring match of sorts was cut off by an excited squeal which caught both Shinomiya and Nakahara's attention. A brunette lady stood at the other end of the hallway, wearing an identical kimono to Nakahara's with her hair swept into an elegant style.

"You must be our guest! Welcome to Kirinoya," the lady began, gliding down the hallway to shake Shinomiya's hand. "I'm Morishita, but you can call me Mamiko! We're all family in this place."

"Nice to meet you. I'm S—"

"Ugh," Nakahara interjected. "If he's family, I'm putting myself up for adoption."

Mamiko's gaze alternated between the neutral-looking Shinomiya and the irate-looking Nakahara for a few moments, a slight frown finally appearing on her face as she cast an apologetic glance in Shinomiya's direction.

"Excuse me," Mamiko said, grabbing Nakahara by the ear and practically dragging her down the hallway she'd come from. Shinomiya couldn't help but find himself somewhat amused by the sight, though he wondered whether there was something more to why Nakahara disliked him so much. Right now, his only crime was _existing_.

"I'm so sorry about Natsu," Mamiko said, gliding down the hallway once more with a regretful expression on her face. "She's not really a people person."

On that note, she looked back out through the open sliding door. Nakahara had emerged outside once more (presumably from some other exit) and was approaching a cluster of birds with a sunny smile on her face, her earlier annoyance nowhere to be seen.

"She's bloody amazing with plants and animals, but with people… I wouldn't expect too much from her if I were you," Mamiko concluded, shutting the sliding door before gesturing for Shinomiya to follow her up the hallway. "She's not what you'd call 'civil'. So, it was a little weird that she volunteered to welcome you here. We all thought she might try to turn over a new stone, but I'm guessing that she's done the complete opposite…"

"Pretty much."

"Well, I'll give you a proper tour to make up for it! Chef's busy perfecting a dish right now, so we can't go into the kitchen, but I'll give you a tour of everything else. I can also answer any questions you might have," Mamiko said, a sunny smile on her face as she pointed over to the first door. "Here is the lavatory. I doubt I need to give you a tour of that."

"Your doubts are correct."

Mamiko began to laugh to herself, nudging Shinomiya lightly as the two of them continued to walk down the hallway. "You really are a joker, huh? That's great. You'll bring some more energy to the place. Natsu's defensive, Imari's a party animal and Akari's like a baby deer, bless her. She's the newest one here, so she's still finding her feet. She's pretty shy, doesn't talk much, but she's a kind girl."

"Uh… who are all those people?"

Again, Mamiko let out another burst of laughter. "Nakahara Natsu, who you've already met. Just call her Natsu. She might snap at you for it, but keep doing it. She'll get used to it."

In Shinomiya's head, he'd already decided that her new name was 'nature freak'.

"…then Imari's the sous chef and is probably the most creative person I've ever met," Mamiko continued. "She's unpredictable though. Sometimes she'll be all up for jokes, other times she'll snap your throat if you even look at her. Akari's in charge of taking and bringing plates and dishes from the dining room. Super shy, but she's also a pretty sweet girl. Imari and Akari aren't here today though. They only come down whenever we're open for business."

"I'm going to be completely honest… I'm not going to remember any of that."

Again, Mamiko let out another burst of laughter. "I appreciate your honesty. No worries. You'll get accustomed with them sooner or later."

Based on Shinomiya's meeting with the not-so-friendly nature freak, he wasn't quite sure if he _wanted_ to get accustomed with the rest of them, more for the sake of his sanity than anything else. He was careful not to word that sentiment out loud — after all, there was such a thing as being too honest.

He poked his head through the doorway, relieved when he finally spotted a familiar glimpse of light brunette hair secured in a side braid. Hinako was standing at a kitchen counter, using her knife to handle a piece of what appeared to be horse mackerel. She hadn't even noticed his entrance — she was completely engulfed in her current task. Knife cutting through the meat like butter; hands moving fluidly to grab various garnishes; sweet, fragrant scents filling the air as if to entice Shinomiya's taste buds. In every single move, there was sheer grace which resonated with every 'tap' against the chopping board.

Shinomiya just couldn't understand why Hinako wanted to leave the profession. No matter how hard he thought about it, he just couldn't understand.

"We should probably leave Chef to it," Mamiko whispered before beginning to trek back down the hallway. Shinomiya was a little surprised to see that Mamiko was capable of whispering — so far, she'd been sounding like a foghorn reincarnate — but didn't hesitate to follow her. He was still thinking about how Hinako had looked while cooking. It had been years since Shinomiya had actually _seen_ Hinako cook, so it felt a little strange to see her doing it with such focus. Such conviction.

Perhaps Shinomiya could learn a thing or two from her.

"Anyway," Mamiko continued once they were a safe distance away from the kitchen, "this left-side hallway just has the lavatory and the kitchen at the far end. The more interesting stuff is straight ahead. It's one big dining room which can serve up to eight people at any given time."

"So, you only have one group at a time?"

Mamiko let out a hum of affirmation as she began to walk down the other hallway, which had framed pictures of various flowers. The pictures were still and serene, the swaying motion of a vine frozen in one single position; the twirl of a dandelion immortalised within a single shot; the flutter of a sunflower's petals trapped within the picture's golden frame.

Despite its simplicity, it was beautiful. Really beautiful.

"Yeah," Mamiko replied. "It's a fairly uncommon way of serving nowadays, but this is a small restaurant. We're not equipped to serve loads of people, and to be honest, it's better that way. I'm sure you know this already, but our chef has her ditzy moments. She'd be an absolute mess if she tried to focus on serving ten groups of people at once with ten different dishes. Kaiseki is all about focus, seasonality and beauty. Miss one, and you won't have the other two. It's best to focus on an individual group's needs, so that way, you can tailor the kaiseki course to their liking. By the way, let me warn you now: you'll need to duck your head when you enter."

Finally reaching the end of the hallway, Mamiko bowed her head slightly before entering the room. Shinomiya was a little confused — she was short enough that she didn't have to duck her head to enter the room — but didn't question it. Instead, he bowed his own head and walked into the room, his breath catching in his throat when he laid eyes upon the interior. It was as if he'd gone back a hundred years in time.

"Wow…"

"Wow indeed," Mamiko said, laughing as she spread her arms out. "The floor's made out of traditional tatami flooring. The table's low so you have to sit on the tatami, though cushions can be provided upon request. There's also armrests, as you can see. You'll also notice that there's no lamps or lightbulbs in here. We rely on these windows here for our light, and they do a smashing job as you can see…"

Shinomiya's head turned towards the large windows, where sunlight was spilling into the room and bathing the tatami in warmth. Outside, he could see a running stream, an assortment of trees and plants, and he could even see a baby deer hobbling its way through the foresty maze. Shinomiya had visited many a restaurant during his time as a chef, but he'd never quite seen something like this…

"We're one of the most expensive kaiseki restaurants in the area. In euros — that's what they use in France, right?"

Shinomiya nodded.

"Lunch would be about 600 euros, and dinner is about 700. The prices change with every season though. We generally serve about three groups of people a day, and it's my job to walk them through the kaiseki experience! Obviously, the experience is something that's tasted, but I'm there to ensure that everything flows smoothly. I'm not a chef, but I can tell you a hell of a lot about kaiseki."

Shinomiya nodded his head, trying to absorb the information as well as he could. He wasn't quite sure what his role would be in Kirinoya — for all he knew, Hinako might not even let him anywhere near the kitchen — but whatever he did… he was sure that he would find it interesting. Kaiseki was a whole new battlefield for him. He was familiar with the general concept, given that he'd been required to create washoku dishes as part of his studies at Totsuki, but he was a French chef first and foremost. Besides, kaiseki was a niche section of washoku as a whole. Not even Totsuki had gone into that much detail about kaiseki, and Totsuki was the pinnacle of all things cooking. So, in short, Shinomiya knew virtually nothing about kaiseki apart from 'haute cuisine, but make it Japanese'.

"Oh, I almost forgot! You see the doorway there, where you had to duck? It's designed to be low on purpose so that you have to bow your head. It's all based on traditional ideas of respect," Mamiko explained. "Some people think kaiseki is a dying art because of its dependency on tradition. But, I think it's a thriving art. I think it's the most beautiful form of cuisine in the world. There are so many sub-cuisine styles which have spawned from kaiseki, like bento and nouvelle cuisine. And, well, as long as those styles are around… kaiseki won't die."

Shinomiya nodded, not quite sure of what else he could say. He could see that Mamiko was genuinely passionate about what she did, and somehow, that made him feel pleasant inside. He'd been brought into this beautiful dining room, introduced to a whole new view of nature and now, he was beginning to understand why Doujima had said that coming here would help him as well as Hinako.

He knew French cuisine inside out. But, while he still remembered the principles of Japanese cooking, he'd fallen out of touch a little with his roots. Kaiseki was a quintessential part of washoku, so if Shinomiya could learn the principles of kaiseki and embed them into his cooking…maybe, just maybe, he could create a dish worthy of being tasted by Chef Robuchon.

If he spent enough time observing how everyone worked together in this kitchen, he could bring that energy back to his own kitchen in Paris. And, most importantly, if he could alleviate Hinako's workload — even if it was by the tiniest amount — he might be able to stop her from leaving the profession. If Hinako were to quit being a chef, Shinomiya wasn't quite sure if she'd be able to find a profession in any other field. She'd never done too well in the normal subjects at Totsuki — Shinomiya distinctly remembered Hinako sneaking into his room to steal his notes on past exam papers so that she could pass — so it wasn't like she could become a lecturer or anything. Minimum-wage work would be an offence, to say the least. And… Shinomiya really couldn't see a path that didn't involve Hinako still remaining in the profession.

He still didn't understand, but he had to do what he could.

"So," Shinomiya began, deciding that he needed a break from his thoughts, "are there no shipment trucks?"

Mamiko let out a burst of laughter. "You must be crazy. Why get ingredients which have been touched and prodded by God knows how many people when you could walk a few steps outside and grab them straight from the source? Everything we make in this restaurant comes from what you're seeing outside. I don't know many kaiseki restaurants out there that can claim the same. Or any regular restaurants, now that I think of it…"

Shinomiya was aware of a slow, heavy guilt which was beginning to creep up his spine and onto his shoulders, almost as if to weigh him down. Hinako had expressed excitement and joy over visiting SHINO's, taken time out of her own schedule just to help Shinomiya with his own problems, yet Shinomiya knew absolutely nothing about this spectacular restaurant that Hinako had created. He knew absolutely nothing about the principles that Hinako held within her own cooking, nothing about her specialties and her experiences as a kaiseki chef. Shinomiya had been so absorbed in his own problems that he hadn't even bothered to ask about what life was like at Kirinoya. And, if Doujima hadn't gotten him that plane ticket, that would've still been the case.

God, he really was a horrible friend…

"Hey," Shinomiya said, lifting his head and straightening his back in an attempt to shake off his guilt. "Is it alright if I go to the kitchen?"

"Yeah, sure! Chef should be done now, so you can just walk in," Mamiko replied. Want me to tag along, or…"

"No, it's fine," Shinomiya said, a meek smile appearing on his face. "Thanks for your help though. It was nice meeting you."

"You too!"

On that note, Shinomiya left the dining room — remembering to duck his head as he walked out — and trekked down the hallway, momentarily crossing paths with the nature freak who was scowling in his direction. Shinomiya ignored her and continued to walk down the hallway, turning right once he reached the entrance. His eyes followed the length of the second hallway, trailing across traditional wooden panels and the various floral images which were hanging from the walls.

By the time he entered the kitchen, his nostrils were quickly met by the scent of sizzling horse mackerel. His stomach rumbled as if by instinct, and this time, it was enough to catch the attention of Hinako. Shinomiya froze a little upon noticing the knife in Hinako's hands, followed by the hostility in her eyes.

"Please don't stab me," Shinomiya began, holding up both hands in a somewhat defensive measure. "Then again, I probably deserve it."

Hinako didn't move for a few moments, but it wasn't long before she lowered the kitchen knife back onto the counter, all the while carefully appraising Shinomiya with her eyes. Shinomiya was finding it a little hard to lower his guard — chances were that Hinako was planning to pull a sneak attack and launch the knife at his face — but after a full minute had passed, the hostility faded out from her eyes. Shinomiya took that as his cue to relax and seated himself on top of a bar stool, though he didn't break eye contact with Hinako.

There was a long silence which passed between them. In that time, Shinomiya watched a myriad of emotions swim their way through her eyes. Hostility drowned out by hesitation, which was subsequently swept out of the way by anger, only to be crushed by a wave of relief. Glimmers of happiness were bobbing about in those eyes of hers — probably because she'd been asking him to come down to Japan for too fucking long. Looking at Hinako made him feel guiltier than anything else. Hinako was the best friend who had been there for him through thick and thin, and he'd pushed her away for a fucking _specialty_. Not even a person. A _specialty_. And, even despite that, some part of Hinako still seemed to be relieved that he was here. Not just relieved, but _happy_.

It was a thought which passed Shinomiya's mind from time to time, but now that he was sitting in front of Hinako, the thought had shifted from the dark crevices of his brain to the forefront of his mind, almost as if to taunt him.

_You're a shitty friend_.

He'd never been as sure of that thought as he was in this moment. Hinako had literally thrown everything to one side just to make his life easier last year; Hinako had constantly been there to support him in his darker moments, but where had he been when Hinako had needed someone to talk to? Where had he been when Hinako had been engulfed by the stress of running a restaurant like this? Oh, that's right. He'd been bitching about how he couldn't trust anyone but himself to run the restaurant, bitching about how Hinako needed to 'give him a break'.

He really was pathetic, wasn't he?

"So," Hinako said, that one word slicing through the silence. Shinomiya's thoughts came to a pause, almost as if having been silenced by the sound of her voice. While Shinomiya might've reflected on how weird it was, his mouth was already moving to respond to her prompt.

"So," he echoed.

"What happened to wanting me to 'give you a fucking break' then?"

"Common sense happened," was Shinomiya's reply. "There's no such thing as a 'break' when it comes to a friendship like ours, Hinako. You're always going to bug me. I'm always going to bug you. And we're always going to pretend we hate it when we really don't."

A slight smile appeared on Hinako's lips, but it was quickly replaced with a stern expression, tilting her head to the side in question as she rested a hand on her hip. "You're telling me you realised that in the space of forty-eight hours? Let me guess, Doujima-san intervened."

"No! I wanted to come here," Shinomiya insisted. When Hinako's expression didn't change in the slightest, Shinomiya revised his statement. "Okay, fine. Doujima-san told me what was going on. I didn't… I didn't realise you—"

"The team cooking competitions are off, so you can go home," Hinako briskly informed him. "There was an accident at the venue. Something about a gas leakage. It'll take a while for it to get fixed, so yeah. It's off."

"I'm not here for the stupid competitions. I'm here because I want to help," Shinomiya insisted.

"I've been inviting you for months, you've been saying no, but then you turn up all of a sudden and I'm meant to believe it's for my sake?" Hinako narrowed her eyes at him. "You've made it clear that you're only thinking about yourself this year. So… what's the actual reason you're here?"

"I'm here to help," Shinomiya insisted. "I've been selfish recently. I realise that. And… I feel like shit, alright? So, I want to help."

Hinako folded her arms. "Really?"

"Really."

"So," she prompted, "if I tell you that you won't be allowed anywhere _near_ the kitchen while you're here, you won't turn around and say 'never mind'?"

"I leave myself in your care, Hinako."

"Hmm… fine," Hinako said, releasing a sigh as she relaxed her arms at last, allowing them to drop to either side of her body. "I still don't want to talk to you, so if you want to make yourself useful, spend today and tomorrow helping Nacchan out in the forest. You met her yet? Blonde hair, green eyes…"

Shinomiya winced. "You mean the nature freak?"

"Little harsh, but yeah," Hinako replied. "That alright with you?"

It really wasn't, but Shinomiya knew that he needed to make it clear to Hinako that he was here to help her specifically. He didn't blame Hinako for not trusting him — he'd become more and more self-absorbed in these past few months, shutting her out from his life in the name of success and power and status.

God, Shinomiya really didn't learn from his mistakes, did he?

"Yeah. That's fine with me," Shinomiya replied.

"You're really bad at sounding enthusiastic," Hinako pointed out, though a weak smile had appeared on her lips. "Alright. Well… if you get through this weekend despite not being enthusiastic about it, I'll believe you. Call it a 'first trial' of sorts."

"Alright. I'll do it."


	3. Taste Test

Chapter Three: Taste Test

That weekend, Shinomiya spent more time wrestling with his own feelings than with the stubborn plants that surrounded him. While his feelings had mainly consisted of guilt at the beginning, they had been replaced with frustration — and lots of it. Now that it was Sunday morning, Shinomiya was dying to rip Natsu's head off and throw it in the stream. The amount of times that absolute fucking _nature freak_ had yelled at him for trivial things had infuriated him, to say the least.

_"Hey, scrub! You've got muscles, use them!"_

_ "Why are you just standing there? You think the widdle trout's going to come to you when you look like fucking Slenderman? Bend your damn knees!"_

_ "Aww, look, you're scared of the big bad bush… should I push you in?"_

He'd been one remark away from punching her in her stupid smug face, woman or not. While part of the challenge had been ignoring her remarks, the bigger challenge had been working in the forest. The constant need to walk in a certain way, move in a certain way, breathe in a certain way. It had been difficult, especially with Natsu's aggravations, but Shinomiya could admit one thing: she knew how to get results.

"…hey, Natsu! So, how'd he do?"

Mamiko had appeared by the stream, waving at Natsu with a happy smile on her face as she knelt down to retrieve some fish. She reached her hand below the water, and moments later, there was a rainbow trout trying to wriggle out from her grasp. Shinomiya recalled the technique — trout tickling — as Natsu had yelled it into his ear time and time again until he'd managed to pull it off. By the time he'd successfully acquired a single trout, she hadn't congratulated him — she'd simply moved onto the next task: extracting tree sap.

"I still don't understand why Inui-senpai put him with me," Natsu complained. "I've been maintaining this forest just fine for years. Besides, the first thing he did when he got here was litter! What kind of sane person lets an asshole like that into a _forest_?"

Shinomiya felt his jaw beginning to clench. "Do you _have_ to talk about me like I'm not here?"

"Well, I'd really fucking love it if you left," Natsu snapped, her head whipping towards Shinomiya. "I don't like you. And you're slow to pick up things. Typical pampered chef, can't even catch a damn fish…"

"There's no need to lie," Shinomiya dryly replied, rolling his eyes before resting his gaze on the stream. "You and I both know I got that trout. Easily."

"Easily? You dropped it after like two seconds," Natsu replied with a snicker.

"What the hell do you want me to do, sucker punch it in the gills?"

"Maybe I should sucker punch _you_ in the gills," she smugly replied.

Shinomiya's head whipped around at a speed so quick that it was a surprise that he didn't get whiplash.

"You _fucking_—"

"Well, you two have clearly been getting along," Mamiko interjected, a laugh bubbling out from her lips. She rose to her feet once more, having released the trout back into the stream. Shinomiya was still itching to release his stream of obscenities at Natsu, but he didn't want to interrupt Mamiko in the middle of her sentence. Somehow, Shinomiya got the feeling that it would be worse to cut Mamiko off in the middle of a sentence than it would be to cut Natsu off. Mainly because Mamiko was actually a nice human being.

"Anyway, Chef told me to tell you that you've got the forest to yourself today," Mamiko continued. "Shinomiya's off on Totsuki business."

"Thank God," Natsu said, taking a step away from Shinomiya. "I've had enough of him."

On that note, she disappeared into the forest. Though Shinomiya was itching to grab a trout out of the stream and launch it at her stupid face, he instead chose to grit his teeth together and turned his attention towards Mamiko, who seemed to have picked up on Shinomiya's less-than-savoury mood.

"How'd you enjoy your weekend, then?"

Shinomiya deadpanned Mamiko in response, causing her to let out a loud chortle.

"Natsu will get used to you soon," she assured him, a bright smile on her face. "Give her time."

"She doesn't need time, she needs to be exorcised."

Mamiko let out yet another loud chortle before switching the topic. "Well, Chef wants to see you in the kitchen. She's waiting for you."

"Sure thing. I'll head on in."

Mamiko entered through the kitchen and Shinomiya followed behind her, appreciating just how clean the entire place was. Despite the fact that Hinako had been experimenting with some dishes, there were no stray ingredients lying about, nor were there any unsightly splodges of liquid on her counter. Everything was tidy, impossibly so.

Mamiko promptly disappeared down the corridor while Shinomiya walked over to the counter, waving a hand to catch Hinako's attention.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hey."

Hinako's eyes scanned Shinomiya's attire. Shinomiya had been wearing a clean shirt when he'd first come in, but it was now damp and cold with river water from his many failed attempts at trout tickling. Not to mention, his hands were covered in tiny little fish bites. Most of the fish had been pretty tame, but there had been one particular big fish with a killer bite. To say that the weekend had been tiring would've been an understatement.

"So… you really have been working hard, huh?"

Shinomiya nodded. "I got here at five today."

"Five? We don't even open until twelve," Hinako said, both eyebrows raised in his direction. "You _have_ slept, right? I'm not letting you anywhere near the serving room if you're running on twenty minutes' worth."

"I got six hours and a whole lot of coffee in me."

Hinako sighed, but nodded her head. "Fine. I can accept that. Why'd you get here so early anyway?"

"To prove that nature freak wrong," Shinomiya replied, looking down at the marks on his hands. He'd caught a staggering total of fifteen fish in the time he'd been outside this morning, right after Natsu had joked about how he wouldn't catch more than one without flopping.

"Are you seriously going to keep calling her that?"

"It's not as bad as the names she called me all weekend," Shinomiya grumbled. "Ever heard the saying 'eye for an eye'? 'Cause it applies here."

Hinako was still trying to keep a stern expression, but after a few moments, she relented and let out a deep sigh. With that one sigh, the invisible wall between them broke down, crumbling to pieces at their feet. Nothing needed to be said — they'd both felt the change in the atmosphere, as subtle as it was. The small smile that appeared on Hinako's face only sealed the deal for Shinomiya: he'd finally regained some of her trust. He still wasn't sure if he deserved it, but he was damn well ready to prove himself.

"I don't understand how you've made enemies with Nacchan already," Hinako admitted, a snicker leaving her lips as she set her plate of horse mackerel to the side. "You literally _just_ got here."

"I tried to be civil with her, but to be completely blunt? She's a bitch," Shinomiya stated. "I don't like her."

"You realise she's basically the female equivalent of you, right?"

"No way." Shinomiya let out a snort. "I'm actually reasonable."

"Really? Who's the one who fired three sous chefs in less than six months?"

"It was because of their incompetence, okay? I'm reasonable when people do things right," Shinomiya insisted.

"So's Nacchan," Hinako countered. "You know what? I think you being here is going to force you to confront your own personality traits."

"Hinako, I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Hinako shrugged her shoulders as if to say "whatever", but said no more on the topic. She moved over to the sink and switched the tap on so that she could finish rinsing a set of knives, carefully drying them with a hand towel before sliding them into a wooden knife block. The block was promptly pushed to one side before she looked back up at Shinomiya again with a slight quirk in her lips.

"I know my reaction was a little lukewarm, but I _am_ happy you're here," she assured him as she continued to rinse whatever dirty dishes remained, her hands carefully caressing ceramic plates and dishes. "Took you long enough to come down and visit."

"I know. It's long overdue," Shinomiya admitted. "But, hey. I'm ready to start learning. How can I help?"

Her gaze shifted up to Shinomiya's. "You can't."

Shinomiya frowned. "Huh?"

"You can do some taste-testing for me and stuff, but beyond that… I can't really offer you anything," Hinako admitted, switching the tap off and loading the newly washed dishes up in their respective spots. "It's true that I could use the extra pair of hands, but you specialise in French cuisine. This is a kaiseki restaurant. The two couldn't be any further apart than they already are."

"In that case, teach me. Teach me how to do kaiseki."

"Sure," Hinako replied, her attention still focused on the dishes rather than on Shinomiya. It was after a brief pause that Hinako's head whipped around, the words "wait, _what_? You want me to teach you kaiseki?" shooting out from her lips.

"Yeah. I do."

"You're crazy," Hinako said after a brief pause, leaning one hand against the counter. "Kaiseki is a discipline that takes _years_ to master, and considering that we open in two hours, so regardless of your excitement, you're not going to become a kaiseki master in two hours. Besides, you've got to go to Totsuki to help with the Shokugekis, right? You can't help me—"

"Actually, I can."

Shinomiya pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled a number, listening to the trill on the other end. It took a few moments, but eventually he was greeted with a curt "what do _you_ want?" from Mizuhara, his former classmate and rival. He'd barely spoken to her since the pre-open of SHINO's Tokyo four years ago, though he'd been hearing bits and bobs about her life through Hinako.

"Well," Shinomiya began, "remember all those Shokugekis we had back in Totsuki?"

"I guess," she muttered.

"The stakes were as follows: if I won, you'd owe me a favour. If I lost — which I never did, by the way — I would have to leave Totsuki," Shinomiya reminded her, a smirk forming on his lips. "So, my point is, I'd like to collect on one of those favours."

She let out a defeated sigh. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Totsuki need a judge for some Shokugekis which are taking place today. I was meant to be one of those judges," Shinomiya explained, "but I'd rather help out a fellow kouhai with her restaurant. Be a nice person for a day and take my place, why don't you?"

Mizuhara clicked her tongue in annoyance, muttering a curse word underneath her breath before replying, "Seriously, the way you ask makes me not want to do it…"

"Well, too bad. I've already told Totsuki you're taking over for me," Shinomiya lied. "Have fun, Mizuhara."

"Fuck you."

Mizuhara promptly hung up the phone, leaving Shinomiya to put his phone back in his pocket. Hinako shook her head at him, a smile passing across her face.

"You're making enemies all over the place, aren't you?"

"Well," Shinomiya began with a slow shrug of the shoulders, "I guess I love to be hated."

"I wouldn't say she _hates_ you," Hinako insisted. "She still asks about how you're doing from time to time. She cares. She's just… you know. Mizuhara. Also, probably doesn't help that you just went Nacchan on her."

"For the last time," Shinomiya impatiently stated, "I don't have anything in common with her."

"Sure, sure," Hinako replied, without attempting to conceal her eye roll. "Anyway, off you go. I've got some prep to do."

"I'll help you," Shinomiya insisted.

"I already said no."

"But I want to learn," Shinomiya complained. "Come on, Hinako. Don't make me beg. It'll hurt my pride."

"Oh, I'm always up to hurt your pride," Hinako replied, a smirk forming on her lips. "I can't take you up on that offer right now though. There's two hours before we open. There's a lot I need to do in those two hours. Prep included."

"Then let me do the prep," Shinomiya insisted. "Come on. Give me a chance."

Hinako still looked a little unsure. Shinomiya couldn't blame her — after all, if kaiseki was as complicated as she was describing it to be, then it would be a huge risk to let a newbie like him into the kitchen. Even so, Shinomiya believed in his ability to master the skill.

"Any reason why you're being so insistent over this?"

"Two reasons. One, I've been a shitty friend," Shinomiya admitted, letting out a heavy sigh as he pressed his hands against the counter. "This place is amazing. It's like going back in time. Everything's so traditional. The floors, the setting, _everything_. The forest is huge. There's probably a huge amount of work that goes into maintaining it. You've got so much work here, yet I've been dragging you away from this place just to deal with me and my stupid feelings. That leads me into reason number two: by helping you out here, I might be able to conquer said stupid feelings by developing a new speciality."

"You're stupid and all, but your feelings aren't," Hinako said, reaching a hand out to flick him square in the forehead. He flinched at the action, but didn't bother to scold her for it.

"Come on, stop hating on yourself," she urged. "It's not like I hate helping you. I mean, you're the only person I really speak to outside of work. Like, I talk to Mizuhara and Donato and stuff, don't get me wrong, but I don't really get on with them the same way I get on with you. Yeah, I've got my own restaurant. Yeah, I've got my own shit to handle. But, that doesn't mean I see you as a burden. You're my _friend_, idiot. I know the concept of a friend is foreign to you and all—"

"Did you _really_ need to insult me there?"

"Yes, I did. And no, you can't interrupt me again."

Shinomiya rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips.

"But, as I was saying," Hinako continued, "I've always thought that you're responsible for a lot of my success. Like… if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have gotten my first Michelin star. I wouldn't be running the restaurant I want to run. I wouldn't have the amazing kitchen that I do now."

"Huh?" Shinomiya frowned, eyebrows furrowing together slightly as he stared at Hinako. "How am I responsible for that?"

"Well, remember a couple of years ago when Totsuki recruited us to go and help out with the first years' training camp?"

Shinomiya nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah. I remember."

"I wasn't going to go until you called me up like 'oh, come on, if I have to suffer, then you have to suffer too'. So, I went and gave them a task where they had to use their surroundings to make a satisfying dish. Most of them got tunnel vision and failed miserably, but some of them created impressive dishes. Like, _really_ impressive dishes. And, well, after that day… I realised what I wanted to do as a Totsuki graduate."

Hinako's gaze drifted towards the open doorway where the outside world lay, vast and beautiful in its natural simplicity. The running stream, the multitude of colourful insects, the assortment of beautiful trees.

"I wanted to do kaiseki," Hinako continued, her voice becoming softer as she spoke. "I wanted my cooking to be built on those three pillars: seasonality, presentation and beauty. So, I came to Osaka and found this broken-down place which was being sold dirt cheap. My family told me it wasn't worth buying and my friends said it wasn't worth a single cent of my money… so I bought it."

"Sounds like you," Shinomiya said, letting out a snort of laughter.

"At the same time, I decided that it was time to lay off my old staff and hire some new people who could see my vision. The hiring stories are pretty fun, but I'll save those for another time," Hinako said, letting out a small chuckle. "Anyway… after fixing this place up and turning it into my dream restaurant, I started creating my kaiseki dishes. Opened the place up for business. And, two years later, I got my first Michelin star. None of it would've happened if you hadn't convinced me to go to the training camp, so… you helped, in a way."

"I still don't get it. I did nothing," Shinomiya insisted. "You're the one who put in the hard work. Hell, I didn't even _know_ you'd moved to Osaka."

"I wouldn't have expected you to," Hinako softly replied. "The move happened around the… uh… Stagiaire period, so… yeah. You had a lot going on then. But, you've helped me a lot more than you realise. Don't feel useless. You're not."

"Well, if anything… I'm happy I get to make up for lost time," Shinomiya said, letting out a deep sigh. He'd spent so much time pining over past memories that he'd completely forgotten about all the other things in life. What if he'd spent that time visiting Hinako's restaurant? What if he'd spent that time rekindling old friendships? What if he'd spent that time pushing the boundaries with his cooking rather than remaining within the safe pen of French cuisine?

Maybe — just maybe — Shinomiya would be feeling more content with his life.

"Good. I just want you to be happy," Hinako said, a sunny grin on her face as she placed a dish of horse mackerel in front of him. "By the way, I heard your stomach growling, so this dish will be perfect for you. You haven't eaten anything today, right?"

Shinomiya shook his head.

"Good. Your taste buds haven't been tampered with. Taste this," she instructed. "Tell me what it reminds you of. If I like your answer, I might be willing to teach you what you need to know about kaiseki."

Shinomiya took the dish into his hands, his gaze drawn straightaway to the presentation. The 'dish' itself wasn't a dish, but a plank of wood which had been carved into a rectangle with smooth, delicately curved edges. A petite cluster of flowers decorated each edge, infusing all sorts of sweet scents into the air.

The horse mackerel itself was arranged so that it could be appreciated from all angles. Two expertly-sliced chunks were resting atop petite spears of asparagus, their pale flesh glistening even in the absence of overhead lights. The other two chunks were laid directly on top of the wood, a gleaming layer of soft, dark skin protecting the flesh underneath. There were lime slices cut into thin swirls (Shinomiya found it hard to believe that Hinako of all people had been able to focus long enough to be able to cut the lime slices this intricately) and strewn across the wood, one pressed on top of a horse mackerel chunk.

It took Shinomiya a minute to realise that each chunk of horse mackerel was designed to give a slightly different taste each time, all influenced by their placement on the plank of wood. Chances were, the wood was also infusing some natural flavour into the fish. There was also sauce drizzled over the fish, though not all of the chunks were covered in that sauce. If Shinomiya's nose was working correctly, the sauce consisted of sake, mirin and soy sauce.

"What are you waiting for?" Hinako frowned. "Haven't got all day, you know."

"Just thinking," Shinomiya replied, setting the dish down on the counter before pulling up a nearby stool. "Your cooking's changed a lot. I mean that in a good way. Not to say that your cooking was bad before, but I don't remember your plating being so… intricate."

"Well, duh! I didn't get a Michelin star for nothing," Hinako replied, sticking her tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes, but said no more as he perched on the edge of the stool and reached for some chopsticks. He poised himself to cut into the first piece of horse mackerel, but paused when Hinako leaned in so far that their foreheads were almost touching.

"Hinako," Shinomiya began, setting his chopsticks to one side. "Ever heard of personal space?"

"You're taking too long," Hinako whined. "I want to see your reaction."

Shinomiya rolled his eyes. "Do you need to see it _that_ closely?"

Hinako grumbled underneath her breath, but leaned back into her own seat to give Shinomiya a little bit more space. She was still following Shinomiya's every move with an eagle eye, but Shinomiya could accept that. After all, it had been ages since Shinomiya had been given the chance to taste one of Hinako's original dishes…

Shinomiya reclaimed his chopsticks and began to cut through the first chunk of horse mackerel, only to be taken aback when the weight of his chopsticks was more than enough to sink through the flesh and to the bottom of the wooden plate. The meat was tender, incredibly tender.

Judging by the laugh which bubbled out from Hinako's lips, the shock on Shinomiya's face must've been more than clear. The presentation of the dish had already caught his attention, but the tenderness of the horse mackerel… he hadn't been anticipating it.

He secured himself a small chunk and placed it in his mouth, his eyes springing open at the sheer impact of the taste. The taste reminded him of the streams and rivers back in Fukuoka, reminded him of life on the garden with his mother, reminded him of… home. The mackerel was incredibly tender as if it had been touched by the sun, buzzing with warmth as if it were still alive, causing Shinomiya's taste buds to cry out for joy even as every other part of him screamed 'I'm exhausted'.

"You look like you're going to cry. Please do, it'll help my ego lots," Hinako said, clapping her hands together with a joyful expression on her face.

"Go away."

Hinako's only response was to laugh at him. Shinomiya continued to scarf down each individual chunk of mackerel, mentally taking note of each technical point about the dish. The little swirls helped to add small bursts of zest to the dish, except… Shinomiya was pretty sure this wasn't lime. It was something else. He'd picked up one of the swirls with his chopsticks to observe it curiously, wondering whether it was a different variation of lime. It tasted stronger, but it wasn't unpleasant. No, it complemented the dish really well…

"Sudachi," Hinako replied to Shinomiya's unvoiced question, holding up a small green fruit. "Typically, you'd pair horse mackerel with lemon, but I'm trying _not_ to be typical. So, I chose sudachi. It's pretty much unheard of outside of Japan, and to be pretty honest, not even that many Japanese people have heard of it. I honestly think it deserves more attention though. It's got tons of nutritional benefits. Like, for example, it can reduce the effects of hayfever."

"Wait, what? Really?" Shinomiya couldn't help but perk up at that. He'd struggled his way through many pollenated summers, so the idea of _not_ having to struggle was fairly appealing.

"Yeah, yeah. It's this chemical. Narirutin."

Shinomiya let out an appreciative hum before setting the swirl back down on the wooden plank with his chopsticks. Next, he picked up one of the asparagus spears and bit into it, surprised when he was met with a sudden burst of flavour. He'd eaten a lot of asparagus in his lifetime, but none like this.

"I'm guessing you're about to tell me the secret behind this?" Shinomiya prompted, holding the half-eaten spear up to Hinako.

"Yup!" Hinako clapped her hands together. "It's all thanks to kombu. You soak the asparagus in salt water, wrap it up in kombu for a few hours and boom, you've got super-yummy asparagus!"

Shinomiya let out a thoughtful hum in response. He'd never used kombu for asparagus specifically, though he liked to utilise it as often as he could in his kitchen. It was a fairly simple way to bring a Japanese flair to his dishes, whether it be taste-wise or appearance-wise.

"I'm going to have to steal this technique," Shinomiya admitted.

On that note, Shinomiya lifted the half-eaten spear to his lips. He should've been accustomed to the taste, and yet, it didn't feel any less impactful. The end was slightly crispy, while in the centre, it was deliciously soft and oozed a delicious flavour onto his tongue.

"Ooh. I guess that means I'm getting a positive review then? Well, unless you're about to go on your '_stupid dunce! Why did you use x ingredient rather than x ingredient_' rants."

"First of all, I don't sound like that," Shinomiya said, wrinkling his nose in Hinako's direction. "And, yeah. I guess you could call it positive. I'm guessing you want me to rant at you though."

"Well, yeah," Hinako replied. "I mean, it's you. Of course you're going to rant."

"Actually, believe it or not, I'm not in a ranting mood. There _is_ one point I'm going to bring up though. Texture. It's all soft," Shinomiya explained. "The fish is soft, the asparagus is mostly soft. Don't get me wrong, it's nice, but I honestly think you could do more with it. Maybe try roasting the asparagus?"

"I already tried that," Hinako replied. "It felt more autumn than summer though, so I decided against it. Maybe I should try crisping the ends a little more. You think I should?"

Shinomiya let out a hum in response. "Go for it."

"Great," Hinako trilled. "Also, I get what you're saying about the textures. I thought about using breadcrumbs, but it's not really Japanese, is it? That's more of a Western thing. I know you're all about 'combining cultures' but kaiseki isn't really the kind of style where you can do that…"

"You could use panko," Shinomiya suggested. "It's still breadcrumbs, but Japanese-style. All you have to do is use a food processor to get the crumbs all coarse, then you bake them for a few minutes and_ voilà_, you have panko. Now you can vary the texture a bit more, give the fish a deeper flavour and pretty much 'bind' everything together so that it doesn't fall apart the second you prod it with chopsticks. Hell, you can even experiment with the way you make the panko. The longer you bake it, the crispier the final result will be."

"…you really do have a brilliant mind," Hinako said after a long pause, staring at Shinomiya with a dumbfounded expression on her face. "It's so obvious. I can't believe I didn't think of it. Jeez. _Panko_. Of course. Thanks! That's exactly what I need."

"No problem," Shinomiya said, a little chuckle leaving his lips.

There was a brief pause in which Hinako simply regarded Shinomiya with a teasing smile playing on her lips, her eyebrow raising as she opened her mouth to make an observation.

"Since when were you so nice? You used to be _so mean_ when giving critiques," Hinako pointed out, shuddering to herself. "Honestly, I was a little scared to get you to taste this. I'll never forget the time when we first met and I suggested that you use mint in one of your soups, only for you to start going on a rant about how my temperature control sucks and how stupid my plating is and how I can't do this and how I can't do that so I couldn't tell you to use mint in your soup… seriously, you tore me apart that day. In front of the entire class as well!"

"That was over ten years ago—"

"And then the next day," Hinako ranted, clearly incensed by the situation, "you had the _audacity_ to tell everyone 'oh, I decided to put mint in my soup'. No, you didn't decide, I fucking told you and then you played it off as your own fucking idea! I'll never forget. _Never_."

Shinomiya raised an eyebrow at her. "You haven't got anything better to get mad about? Seriously, you and Mizuhara seem to have a lot in common."

"You also have a lot in common with that thing over there," she replied, gesturing towards the trash bin in the corner, "but you don't hear me complaining."

"…you were literally _just_ complaining about me, dunce."

"Pictures or it didn't happen."

Shinomiya shook his head — more to himself than at Hinako — and clicked his tongue, though he wasn't really that annoyed. Rather, he was reminiscing on just how much time had passed since he'd had the liberty of absorbing himself into a stupid conversation like this.

"Look at it this way. If I hadn't chewed you out, we wouldn't be best friends right now," Shinomiya rationalised. "Besides, you've perfected your temperature control now. If I hadn't chewed you out…"

"I know, I know, it would still be sucky. Fine. Whatever," Hinako said, waving her hands to deflect from the topic. "I'm still curious about the change of tone. Where's the swearing? Where's the criticisms? You've usually got lots to offer."

"Yeah, because pretty much all of your earlier dishes had faults," Shinomiya replied, earning himself a shoulder slap from Hinako. "But… I'm not seeing those faults. Texture aside, this is a good dish. I like the concept behind it, too. If I understand correctly… each piece of fish is meant to get 'warmer'. Like summer, right?"

"Yay, you figured it out!" Hinako clapped her hands together in excitement as she got up to her feet. "I've been having lots of fun with my summer dishes! This one doesn't feel complete though, which is annoying. I'll try your suggestion about panko. Thing is, I'm a little worried about overwhelming people's taste buds. The fish is already naturally rich in flavour, but then you've got my special blend sauce, and then you've got the asparagus and… ugh."

"Yeah, I get what you mean. Flavour-wise, it's pretty strong. I could see something like this being a starter. Or, to be more specific, it's a starter that wants to be a main course," Shinomiya commented, a slight frown appearing on his face as he began to think about what 'category' this dish would go into. "What exactly is it?"

"Well, kaiseki cuisine is a little… different. It's not appetizer, starter, main course and dessert. It consists of small dishes which are all united under one theme," Hinako explained, humming to herself as she tapped a finger against her cheek. "Like… rather than there being four dishes, there's fourteen. Does that make sense?"

Shinomiya's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"_Fourteen_?"

"Well, yeah," Hinako replied with a shrug of the shoulders. "What, do you think I'm charging people 700 euros for one dish?"

"Well, no, but… Jesus Christ. Fourteen dishes… it must be a pain for you to update your menu," Shinomiya commented. "How often _do_ you update it?"

"Every week," Hinako trilled. "That's why we're only open three days a week. Gives me time to come up with ideas. It also gives the forest a bit of a rest, you know? Don't want to kill it in the name of cuisine."

Shinomiya was pretty sure his eyes had popped out of his head.

"So… what you're telling me is that you come up with _fifty-six_ new dishes per month."

"Sixty," Hinako corrected. "Morning courses have some of the same dishes as evening courses, but usually four of those dishes will be switched out for something more appropriate for the morning. So, yeah. Generally, it's sixty dishes a month."

"…sixty dishes… I think I just got heart failure…"

"What?" Hinako let out a giggle. "How often do you update yours?"

"Let's just say you make more new dishes in a month than I do in a year. Thank _fuck_ I'm not a kaiseki chef," Shinomiya said, shuddering to himself at the mere thought of having to come up with sixty dishes at a _minimum_. "Seriously, I don't know how you haven't lost your sanity yet."

"Mmm… not going to lie, a part of me does sometimes," Hinako admitted. "It's a _lot_ of work. Even with everyone else around me. Sometimes I'll reuse ideas but switch around the ingredients a bit. It makes things easier, but… I don't know. Part of me feels like I'm going to run out of steam one day."

Something flickered in Shinomiya's mind. He hadn't gone into this conversation intending to find out the reasons as to why Hinako wanted to leave the profession, but it looked like he'd already hit a major nerve as to why she was beginning to lose her motivation.

"You ever think you're overloading yourself?"

"Nacchan says I am, but… I don't know. I don't feel like I'd be doing true kaiseki if I were to just keep repeating dishes like I'm some sort of McDonalds," Hinako admitted, lightly chuckling to herself. "I don't want to ease up on the count either. If I went down to doing like six or seven dishes… it wouldn't feel right. I'm just doing what feels _right_."

"Hinako, no sane person can keep pumping out that many dishes on a monthly basis. If you were to do a poll with all the chefs on Twitter right now, I guarantee that the vast majority would be like 'how the fuck is sixty new dishes per month even possible'. Hell, if I were to—"

Shinomiya paused when he heard the trill of a little egg timer on the counter. Hinako's next movements were like clockwork — she pulled an ornate oven glove onto one hand, using that gloved hand to ease the oven door open. She retrieved a single roasted cherry tomato. She blew on it a few times before popping it into her mouth, humming to herself for a few moments before frowning.

"Nope. Needs longer."

With that, she shut the oven door and set her glove down to the side before turning her attention back to Shinomiya. "Sorry. What were you saying? I've got a lot to get through, but I'm listening."

She continued to bustle about the kitchen, her entire demeanour having changed from what it had been just seconds ago. She seemed more serious now, more focused. One hand was wielding a bag of uncooked rice while the other was reaching for a digital balance sitting on top of a cupboard.

"I've pretty much forgotten," Shinomiya admitted, distracted with trying to figure out the dish Hinako was making. Cherry tomatoes, rice, and he could see Natsu approaching the door with two trouts in hand. It felt like she was making three different dishes at once — _ah. That was it_.

"Actually, scratch that," Shinomiya said, seating himself on a nearby stool. "I remember. We were talking about you and your sixty dishes. I still don't understand how you can do that."

Hinako sounded as if she'd been about to respond, but she was interrupted by a certain blonde-haired demon.

"Inui-senpai, I got the trouts you wanted," Natsu said, dutifully approaching the counter and placing both trouts on top of a wooden chopping board. Then, almost shyly, she pulled a flower out of her hair and held it out to Hinako, who was beaming at the mere sight of the flower. "It's a peony. They're meant to be lucky."

"What do I need luck for?"

"Well, your luck clearly isn't that great if you've ended up with Mister 'can't catch fish' over there," she replied, jerking a thumb in Shinomiya's direction.

It was taking Shinomiya every last ounce of self-control not to respond to the provocation. He could've — hell, he wanted to — but he would run the risk of annoying Hinako, and given that he'd only just gotten Hinako to forgive him, he wasn't willing to test the waters at this precise moment.

"Oh, come on. Why can't you two just get along?" Hinako frowned as she began to strain her rice grains through a fine mesh sieve, watching the starchy water disappear down the drain as she shook the sieve back and forth.

"Don't pin this on me," Shinomiya replied. "I haven't said a word since she walked in."

Natsu clicked her tongue, her head whipping around to shoot a glare in Shinomiya's direction. "Maybe you should keep it that way."

Shinomiya opened his mouth to tell Natsu exactly where to go, but Hinako managed to fill the silence before he could.

"Nacchan. He's my best friend. Behave."

"Fine, fine." She sighed and turned her attention away from him, but much to Shinomiya's surprise, she actually seemed to be laying off. "Anything else you need? The bell peppers are looking great today. They're at peak ripeness actually. I'd take full advantage of them this week."

"Sure thing. Give me six," Hinako ordered. "Also, more asparagus. Just get a handful. And get yourself a peony. You deserve a bit of luck too."

"Nah. I'm already lucky enough."

Shinomiya was taken aback by the smile which appeared on her face. God, he didn't even _know_ that Natsu was capable of doing anything other than scowling. Natsu seemed to notice the incredulous look Shinomiya was shooting her way, however, judging by how the smile on her face quickly disappeared.

"See ya in a few," Natsu said before flouncing back out through the open door. Shinomiya stared from Natsu's retreating figure to Hinako, wondering just what was going on there. He'd assumed that they just got on really well, but the shy smiles and the innocent flirty lines was leading him to think otherwise.

Shinomiya let out an inquisitive hum. "What's going on there?"

Hinako didn't seem to have even heard his question. She was staring down at the peony, a smile on her face as she brushed a thumb over the soft, pink petals. Somehow, Shinomiya couldn't help but feel as if he'd intruded upon a moment which wasn't meant for him to witness. It felt _weird_. Over ten years of friendship with Hinako and he'd never once seen her look so… _lovesick_.

"Sorry," Hinako said, looking up to face Shinomiya after a brief pause. "Did you say something?"

"No, no. Never mind."

She let out a hum in acknowledgement and slid the flower into her hair. She quickly washed her hands before beginning to measure out exact amounts of rice. There was a saucepan of water simmering on the hob, a thermometer poking right out of it. Hinako had always been particular about the way she made rice. Some might have called it overkill, but to this day, Shinomiya hadn't met anyone who could make rice better than Hinako.

"You know," Hinako began, "sixty dishes isn't that difficult when I've got everyone else here."

Shinomiya didn't respond at first — he'd been expecting Hinako to elaborate. But when she didn't, he prompted her by saying, "How so?"

Hinako didn't respond for so long that Shinomiya couldn't help but wonder whether she had actually heard him or not. She seemed completely engrossed in her tasks, incrementally pouring out the strained bowl of rice into the saucepan. She then pulled the thermometer out and put a lid down on the saucepan, swirling the rice around a few times before fiddling with her egg timer. In that time, Natsu returned with the asparagus and peppers that Hinako had asked for, though she didn't announce her presence this time around. She simply shot a glare in Shinomiya's direction before leaving. Shinomiya couldn't help but think that handling Natsu would be even _more_ work than preparing sixty new dishes per month. Maybe _that_ was why Hinako didn't see it as being 'difficult'.

"Everyone helps with the creative process," Hinako said out of nowhere, startling Shinomiya. "Like, we'll all go and look around with Nacchan to find dish opportunities. It's pretty fun. We always find something new. Sometimes it's in the trees, other times it's deep in the ground. But… we always find something. Honestly, anyone who _isn't_ doing collaborative cooking is missing out. Yes, I'm shading you."

Shinomiya rolled his eyes. "I'm the head chef, aren't I? Why am I going to let other people interfere with my creative process?"

"It's not interfering if they're making it better," she scolded, approaching one of her oven gloves which was hanging from a nearby peg. "And don't make that face at me."

Shinomiya had begun frowning, but couldn't help but laugh when Hinako called him out on it. Hinako wasn't even _looking_ at him — she'd simply guessed that Shinomiya had been making a face. And she'd been absolutely right.

"I know you're all like 'every chef for themselves' in the kitchen and all, but… honestly. If you let people in more, it'll really improve your cooking," Hinako insisted, beginning to approach the oven with both gloves on. She flung the oven door open and pulled out the tray of roasted cherry tomatoes, their sweet aroma filling the air almost straightaway. Shinomiya's eyes — and stomach — were attracted by the very sight of those tomatoes. As if sensing his thoughts, Hinako held the tray out to Shinomiya, allowing him to take one of the tomatoes. He accepted it with glee, even though it was starting to burn his fingertips off. He blew at the tomato hurriedly before popping it in his mouth, giving it a few moments to rest on his tongue before chewing. With each chew, he seemed to unlock more and more of the flavour.

"You can learn things from people who aren't even chefs," Hinako continued, also chewing on one of her cherry tomatoes. She'd set the tray down on one of the counters and was now leaning one hand on an empty counter, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her gloved hand. "I mean, think of your clients. Most of them probably aren't chefs. But they sure as hell know what they want to eat and what they don't want to eat. Don't you think?"

"I guess." Shinomiya mulled over Hinako's words for a few moments longer before forming a longer response. "I see where you're coming from, but… ugh. I just don't trust people to carry out my vision."

"Why are you hiring people you don't trust?"

"Well… let me put it this way," Shinomiya began. "We've cooked alongside each other. I would probably trust you with my life. But I wouldn't trust you in my kitchen. The thought of someone's efforts being attributed to _my_ name, the thought that those efforts might not reflect _my_ abilities… it makes me anxious."

Hinako nodded her head to herself.

"Sounds a touch narcissistic," she admitted after a slight pause, "but I get where you're coming from. I'm not gonna tell you you're wrong, but… our kitchens are different. The countries are different. I mean, if I were in a French kitchen, I'd fucking hate it. No offence to you. But they seem so _boring_. Honestly. You can't even talk to anyone. You just stand there and whip out dishes like machines. It's too _perfectionist_. I mean, it suits you perfectly, but God. I couldn't do it."

"I think you could," Shinomiya countered. "I mean, you got through Totsuki, didn't you?"

"Well, I _could_ do it, but I wouldn't be happy doing it. That's what I mean," Hinako explained. She'd begun to move around the kitchen again, this time to retrieve ceramic bowls from a cupboard. "The whole 'no talking' thing is a _huge_ turnoff for me. Not gonna lie. Like, talking is one of the best things about the process! I don't get how people can just… not do it."

"So, you're telling me that you have full-on conversations in your kitchen?"

"I'm talking to you now, aren't I? Unless this doesn't count as a conversation…"

"I know, I know, but you're just doing prep now," Shinomiya countered. "Even _I_ talk while doing prep. Granted, not this much, but I still talk. What about during working hours? Would you still have conversations?"

"Well…" Hinako drifted off as she looked around her kitchen, seemingly trying to find something. Her eyes eventually latched onto the sight of some asparagus spears which she retrieved and placed down on a nearby chopping board. She then moved the chopping board slightly so that she could maintain eye contact with Shinomiya while chopping the asparagus at the same time.

"It's not total silence, but it's not gossip corner either," Hinako replied. "My sous chef can't read my mind. Nacchan can't read my mind… though she _is_ pretty good at guessing what I want from her. So we've gotta speak out loud. It's like 'Can you grab this?' 'Taste this, tell me if I need to add more ginger'. You know, that kind of thing."

"So, you'll be improving the dishes even as you make them?"

Hinako let out a hum. "It depends. With things like rice… well, there's nothing to improve. It's rice. But let's take the horse mackerel as an example. If I made that and was happy with it, but then I realised that there was a seasoning out there that would blow everything out of the water, I'd make sure I got my hands on that seasoning. You know? It's kaiseki. You don't limit yourself to a strict recipe. Obviously you follow guidelines; you don't just go completely rogue. But at the same time… we're all professionals. If we see an opening for an improvement, we go for it."

Shinomiya let out a hum. It certainly sounded risky to him, but at the same time, it definitely sounded right for Hinako. It was strange, really. Hinako was in love with such a traditional style of cooking, but at the same time, she was one of the most spontaneous chefs that Shinomiya knew.

"Anyway, I'm about to start working on like four things at once and I can't focus on maintaining a conversation on top of that, so I'm gonna kick you out," Hinako announced as she carefully swept her chopped asparagus into one of the ceramic bowls. "I'll do a you and say that I don't want you to 'interfere with the creative process'. Ugh, I sound so stuck up. How do you live with sounding like that 24/7?"

Shinomiya stuck up his middle finger in a silent response.

"Kidding, kidding. Nah, not really. But I'd rather you get more familiar with the structure of kaiseki courses before you start helping me out in the kitchen," Hinako said, retrieving the red bell peppers that Natsu had given her before calmly slicing through the top halves of each of them. "So, you'll be helping Akari and Mamiko out in the dining room today. Trust me. It's the quickest way to understand just what kaiseki's about. You can ask them any questions you get as long as they're not busy. I can't guarantee they'll answer them, but I can guarantee that you _will_ learn something."

"Damn. You're sounding like a real boss here," Shinomiya teased.

"Because I _am_ the boss," Hinako reminded him. The two chuckled amongst themselves, but once silence fell upon the room, a slight smile appeared on Hinako's lips. "Thanks, though. I really do appreciate the help."

"No need to thank me." Shinomiya grinned. "Just keep doing your best, Chef."

Hinako let out a snort of laughter. "Alright, alright. Off you go then. I've wasted enough time talking to you," she said, shooing Shinomiya away with one hand. "Akari should be by the lavatory, so just tell her I said you're with her today. She'll instruct you on your tasks then. We open in less than two hours from now, so be sharp, Shinomiya-senpai."

"Yes, Chef," Shinomiya said, even going as far as to salute Hinako. Hinako began to laugh once more, small wrinkles forming in the corners of her eyes. Shinomiya waited until she'd calmed down enough to make a brief comment. "Though, don't you think we're at the point where you can drop the 'senpai'?"

"Hmm… I guess so," Hinako replied. "Now _go_."

"Okay, okay. I'm going," Shinomiya said, walking out of the kitchen. He could hear Hinako laughing as he left, a sound which put a smile on his face. Already, he could tell that Hinako seemed a lot happier than she had been during their video calls. Shinomiya didn't really feel like he'd done that much yet, but he was slowly beginning to absorb the principles of kaiseki. He could become more useful. He could.

By the lavatory door, he could see a red-haired girl — most likely Akari — holding some fabric in her hands. When Mamiko had mentioned her being 'shy', he'd expected to come across some small, pathetic-looking pest, but this Akari person was taller than _him_. Not by much — probably an inch taller — but she was still taller than him. It probably helped matters that her posture was good, really good. She stood with a straight back, her facial expression was devoid of any apprehension and at a first glance, she appeared to be quite sure of herself. Was she really that shy?

"Hello," Shinomiya said, deciding that it would be customary to introduce himself. "I'm Shinomiya. Hinako said I'm going to be working with you today…"

She nodded and thrust the pile of fabric into his hands. Shinomiya looked down at the fabric in confusion.

"What do I need to do with this?"

She gestured to her own attire, a golden kimono which was identical to the one that both Mamiko and Natsu had been wearing. Shinomiya was a little confused at first, but when he noticed that the 'fabric' in his hands was in fact a silky, golden kimono, realisation clicked in his mind.

"Huh? I've got to wear this?"

Akari nodded.

Without missing a beat, Shinomiya turned and marched his way back over to the kitchen, where Hinako was finely slicing small, delicate portions of trout. Hinako didn't notice him until the words "are you serious" came from Shinomiya's lips, looking up from her work in confusion. Understanding eventually phased through her facial expression when she made the connection between the fabric in Shinomiya's hands and Shinomiya's less-than-savoury facial expression.

"I get that I'm in a female-dominated environment and all, but does that really mean I have to wear a _kimono_? A golden one?"

"It's a kaiseki restaurant," Hinako replied. "I can't let you walk around in Western clothes, can I?"

"I know, I know, but _come on_," Shinomiya urged, holding the kimono up for Hinako to see. "I don't even know how to put a kimono on."

"That's what Akari's here to help you with," Hinako said, gesturing to the woman in question. Shinomiya turned to see that Akari had followed him into the kitchen, an impassive expression on her face. He knew that there was nothing behind that expression, and yet, he couldn't help but feel as if he were being silently judged by her. Suddenly, Shinomiya found himself feeling pretty pathetic. He was really complaining over a kimono?

"Fine," Shinomiya said, taking a step back. "Forget I said anything."

Akari, sensing the conversation had come to an end, began to walk back over to the lavatory door. Shinomiya followed her, feeling a little reluctant about wearing the kimono. It wasn't that he thought it was ugly — no, it was the opposite. It was an incredibly regal-looking uniform, and in all honesty, Shinomiya didn't quite feel like he belonged in a kimono. It was overly formal, overly ornate, overly… everything.

It was universes away from the plain white chef uniform he was wearing.

"So… uh… I'm going to need you to walk me through this."

Akari tilted her head in confusion, but when Shinomiya didn't elaborate, she opened the lavatory door and walked in. Shinomiya frowned in confusion, realising that she'd taken him literally. He might've clarified himself, but he eventually decided that it would be more hassle than it was worth and followed her inside, a little mesmerised by how nice the lavatory was. There was a separate section for men, another for women, and then the central part of the lavatory where they were standing was cosily lit with a small lamp and two little chairs. It was like a little lounge.

Shinomiya stood there, waiting for Akari to say something, but she simply stood there and stared at him with a blank expression on her face. When a good minute or two had passed, Shinomiya finally opened his mouth to break the silence.

"Uh… I need a hand here."

Akari put a hand on top of the clothes in Shinomiya's hands.

"No, not literally," Shinomiya said, letting out a deep sigh. "I've never put on a kimono before. I don't know where to start."

Akari lifted her hand and pointed at the men's section.

"Yes, I know I need to get dressed in there, but I don't know _how_," Shinomiya emphasised, all the while trying to hold onto his patience. There was nothing more he hated than having to repeat himself, and right now, it seemed that he would need to be repeating himself quite a bit. Shinomiya hated to make assumptions — well, not really, he was just saying that — but it was as if Akari had never even interacted with another human being before. There was Natsu, who understood everything except people, then there was Akari, who didn't seem to understand much beyond clothing.

"Kimono," Akari said, pointing at the fabric in Shinomiya's hands. Then, pointing at Shinomiya's attire, she said "not kimono".

"I'm aware of that," Shinomiya said, fighting the urge to let out a heavy sigh. "Could you _tell_ me how to put on this kimono?"

Akari opened her mouth as if to formulate words, but at the last minute, she shut her mouth instead and resumed blinking at Shinomiya with a pair of wide, clueless green eyes. Shinomiya's hands dropped to his sides as he let out a low sigh of frustration. This really was going to be a long day of work, wasn't it?

* * *

Through some miracle, Shinomiya was eventually able to get his kimono on, though he'd lost a huge amount of patience in the process. The first thing he'd noticed was the sheer _weight _of the clothes. He had to wear some sort of plain undergarment, then the kimono itself, _then_ a bunch of fabric-y items which went around his waist. It felt odd and whenever he tried to replicate Akari's smooth way of walking around the restaurant (he'd noticed that the ladies all seemed to 'glide' here rather than walking) he would often end up stumbling over his own two feet. Right now, he felt more like some inexperienced apprentice than an incredibly accomplished chef.

He might've been a master of his field. But, in this restaurant, that meant next to nothing.

"Ah, Shinomiya! You're an absolute vision in kimono," Mamiko said, clapping when she spotted Shinomiya walking into the dining room. "Now you're really one of us! Akari, nice work. I'll never understand how you're able to do such a flawless job every time…"

Akari put a thumbs-up in response, though she didn't open her mouth to speak.

"Anyway, we've got half an hour until the first group arrives," Mamiko said. "It's my job to welcome them at the entrance and bring them to this room. You two just need to bring dishes from the kitchen, then bring them back when they're done. It's pretty straightforward."

Despite it being a mundane task, Shinomiya couldn't help but feel anticipation at the prospect of getting to see an actual kaiseki course in action. He could learn something from seeing how the dishes were presented; he could learn something from the ingredients on the plate. He needed to think about them, think about their presentation on the plate, and most importantly, he needed to figure out how each dish tied into the principles of kaiseki.

It was kind of like a Stagiaire when Shinomiya thought about it. He was here to learn, but he was also here to improve the restaurant in his own way. After all, if Hinako was struggling to deal with the workload, then it was Shinomiya's job to find a solution to that. He'd tasted that mackerel dish. It had been nothing short of amazing.

This restaurant couldn't close. It couldn't.

"Shinomiya, go to the kitchen," Mamiko instructed. "Chef wants to see how you handle dishes. Akari, go with him."

"Sure," Shinomiya replied. Akari, on the other hand, simply disappeared down the hallway without a word to spare. At this point, Shinomiya had figured out that Akari really wasn't big on talking to people. He turned and began to walk out of the dining room, but paused when a sharp hiss of breath left Mamiko's lips.

"Uh-uh. Don't slouch when you walk," Mamiko scolded. "Walk with pride. You're carrying Kirinoya's reputation with every step you take."

Shinomiya nodded and straightened his back before taking slower, surer steps. He knew that he was walking somewhat stiffly, but perhaps it would become more natural to him the more he did it. But, judging by the fact that Akari was already passing him with a wooden capsule in her hands, he was probably walking slower than was necessitated. He sped up his walking a little, though he couldn't shake off the feeling of being 'off-balance'.

Finally, once he reached the kitchen, he saw Hinako waiting for him with an identical wooden capsule in her hands. He noted with a critical eye that her sous chef was still nowhere to be seen, despite it being mere moments before Kirinoya officially opened for business.

"Take this," Hinako instructed. "Let's see how good your serving skills are. Hopefully better than your trout tickling skills."

Through some sort of miracle, Shinomiya was able to overlook the jab. After all, he could see the stress lurking behind Hinako's eyes. It wasn't the time to start arguing with her.

"You've prepared the _amuse-bouche_ already? That was quick," he remarked.

"_Sakizuke_, not amuse-whatever," Hinako corrected. "This isn't your French kitchen, doofus. And yes, I have. So, don't fuck it up."

Shinomiya nodded and reached for the wooden capsule, only for Hinako to pull it back sharply. He frowned and withdrew his hand, a little confused as to why Hinako had reacted so suddenly.

"You don't just grab it like it's nothing," Hinako urged. "I don't know how it is in your kitchen, but over here, the dishes are _just_ as important as the food. Don't _grab_ it. Use your left hand to pull your right sleeve back, then _gently_ retrieve the _sakizuke_ with your right hand. Carry it like it's a baby sapling."

_Jesus Christ_, Shinomiya thought, though he was able to keep his thoughts in his head for once. He didn't want to complain outwardly — after all, he was the one who had insisted on helping Hinako. He didn't want her to decide that he was better off focusing on his French cuisine, right? He needed to get better at this and he needed to do it _quick_.

He did as Hinako instructed, pulling his right sleeve back before accepting the wooden capsule into his hand. She nodded at his method and continued to work on what appeared to be sashimi. Her silence was indication enough that he needed to go back to the dining room.

While walking, he couldn't help but reflect on the similarities and differences between Kirinoya and his own restaurant. Kirinoya was much quieter than his own restaurant, even despite the fact that Hinako didn't mind the odd bit of chatter in her kitchen. Back at SHINO's, there were the faintly-heard conversations of his customers every time the door swung open; the various "Table X wants this" from Gao; the various machines whirring quietly to themselves. Here? It was completely different. There were no 'demands' from the customers. There were no swinging double doors. It was all nature. Nature and nothing else.

"Shinomiya, _posture_," Mamiko sharply scolded upon him entering the dining room. "Don't stare at your surroundings. Look straight ahead. With _purpose_."

"Yeah, dumbass," Natsu mouthed through the window. Shinomiya looked up and shot a sharp glare in her direction, but continued to walk with a straight posture as Mamiko had instructed. Upon reaching the table, he bent down to place the dish in its appropriate spot, only to straighten his back instantly upon hearing a "what the _hell_ are you doing?" from Mamiko.

"Sorry," Shinomiya muttered, not even bothering to look out of the window to see Natsu's reaction. It was probably obnoxious.

"You _never_ bend with the back. Never. You bend with the knees," Mamiko said, going as far as to bend her own knees to demonstrate her point to Shinomiya. "You know what? Akari, place your _sakizuke_ first. Show him how it's done."

Shinomiya took a step away from the table so that he could observe how Akari was doing it. A voice in his mind was saying, "Why are you letting yourself be bossed about, damnit? This isn't even your cuisine style!" However, the overwhelming majority was telling that voice to "shut the fuck up". Shinomiya preferred that message. This was difficult, but it had been ages since he'd given himself a challenge in his cooking adventures. He needed this.

If he couldn't do this, could he really allow _Cooking Monthly_ to call him 'Chef of the Year'?

Akari took slow, confident strides towards the table, head held straight while the capsule lay flat on her outstretched hand. Shinomiya was a little alarmed — one wrongful tilt of her hand and that capsule would be on the ground along with its contents — but as it turned out, his alarm was misplaced. Akari bent down, her golden kimono pooling on the ground as she held the right sleeve of her kimono back with her left hand and tenderly placed the capsule down with her right, her head facing towards the place where the customer would be sitting. A smile — not too wide, not too wan — flashed on her usually expressionless face before she rose back up to her feet, taking slow, confident strides towards the exit of the dining room.

Shinomiya watched after her as she left, wondering just how he was meant to do that. But, he knew that he would be of no use to Hinako if he couldn't emulate that level of grace.

"Remember, Shinomiya. Kaiseki is about presentation," Mamiko emphasised. "Not just of the dishes and the atmosphere, but the servers. Your stance, your pace, your expression. All of it has to be graceful. Poised. Akari was a professional ballerina prior to working here, so it probably comes easier to her than it would to you, but…"

"I know," Shinomiya said, sensing the unspoken threat in her words. "I can do it."

Shinomiya felt like he was a child all over again. A child watching his friends wear designer shoes to elementary school, stylish jeans and shirts, while he was stuck in a pair of faded trousers and a plain black tee. Constantly feeling like an outsider, never being able to fit in anywhere.

"Go ahead," Mamiko said, moving forward to retrieve the capsule before stepping back to allow Shinomiya to start walking. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them at the same time he began walking, concentrating all his strength in the tips of his toes. To glide… he didn't need to tiptoe, he didn't need to slink about. He just needed to focus his energy into the tips of his toes and let his momentum carry him. The appreciative hums from Mamiko were sign enough that he was doing something right.

Once he reached the table, he bent down, wincing at the stiffness of his knees. His weekend work in the forest with Natsu had been gruelling, gruelling to the point that his body still hadn't fully recovered. He'd been wearing appropriate attire too — a t-shirt and some shorts. He couldn't imagine trying to redo that weekend while wearing heavy kimono like Natsu.

Finally, he pulled his right sleeve back using his left hand before reaching his right hand forwards, gently placing the wooden capsule in front of where the client would be sitting. At last, he righted himself, though he wobbled slightly due to the stiffness of his knees. Mamiko raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Shinomiya proceeded to take slow, confident strides just as Akari had, hoping that Mamiko would disregard the slight 'wobble' if he completed everything else at a satisfactory standard.

Once he'd reached the doorway, he turned to face Mamiko and asked how he'd done.

"Better," she replied. "Now, remember. Every dish is _always_ held with one hand. If I see you using both hands at any point, I'm putting you on kimono wash duty. I'll warn you now, washing delicate, silk kimonos is _not_ easy. It's much more difficult than what you've got to do today. So…"

"Don't fuck it up," Shinomiya completed. "Don't worry. I won't. I know I'm not experienced at this… but I'm still a professional in my own right."

"Then, go and join Akari in the kitchen to bring the rest of the _sakizuke_ here," Mamiko ordered. "They should all be set out by the time our guests arrive."

Without another word, Shinomiya turned to go to the kitchen, mentally preparing himself to keep all of Mamiko's points in mind. Grace, poise and presentation. He had to emulate those three things.

He had to.


	4. Fitting into the Framework

Chapter Four: Fitting Into the Framework

"Finally," Shinomiya said, letting out a heavy sigh as he flopped onto the tatami, both arms flung out above his head. It was Friday evening and the final group of guests had left, meaning that he could officially wave goodbye to his 'poise, perfection and elegance' guise.

"Hey, get off the floor!"

The demand was accompanied by one small hand tugging persistently at his sleeve. If it wasn't the annoying shrill voice that alerted Shinomiya to Natsu's presence, the obnoxious pulling definitely did the trick.

"Nah. I'm comfortable here," Shinomiya smugly replied, knowing that it would piss Natsu off even more. As expected, she let out an unnecessarily loud huff before proceeding to complain to everyone else around her as if Shinomiya wasn't even in the room. Though Shinomiya had closed his eyes at this point, he could hear Natsu stomping around the room. _So much for being graceful, huh?_

"…the audacity! I just can't believe that he could even—"

"Oh, come on, Natsu. Give him a break," Mamiko interrupted, her words accompanied by a heavy sigh. Shinomiya edged one eye open to regard Mamiko, whose arms were folded together. "He did a good job this week. I was expecting him to spill something, but he was pretty competent. I guess those three Michelin stars aren't for nothing…"

"Hmph." Natsu tossed her head. "If anyone wants me, I'll be by the willows. Except Slenderman. Don't bother."

Shinomiya raised his eyebrows. "Wasn't going to."

"And stand up already! Your kimono," Natsu urged. "Fuck's sake. Just because you're a mess doesn't mean the kimono has to be—"

"_Natsu_," Mamiko sharply interjected.

"Fine, fine."

Natsu finally strolled out through the side door, much to Shinomiya's relief. With a heavy sigh, he raised himself off the ground and onto his sore, throbbing feet. With every step he took, his mind would drift off to distant images of his bedroom with its king-sized bed, plush pillows and thick blankets, but his thoughts would inevitably rest on one main place: the kitchen. Even while his feet were crying out for rest, he couldn't stop thinking about cooking.

"How're you feeling then, Shinomiya?"

"Tired." He rose his eyes up to meet Mamiko's inquiring gaze.

She let out a hearty laugh. "I know, I know. I've been working you hard this week. But, you've done a good job. And, well, between you and me… I think your presence might be what Chef needs to get her confidence back."

Shinomiya nodded his head, though he couldn't help but feel a little distracted by the last part of her sentence. He hadn't been able to stop wondering about the exact reason behind Hinako wanting to leave the profession, and while he'd been dying to ask, he'd been worried about the timing. Still… it wasn't like him to worry about things like that. He usually just did whatever he wanted to do.

Before he could open his mouth to begin navigating the topic, Mamiko was already beating him to the chase. "I'm guessing you've heard about Chef wanting to close the restaurant down."

Shinomiya nodded.

"She says she's lost her passion for it," Mamiko explained. "And for a while, I could see that. She was struggling for inspiration. But ever since you got here, she's been acting the same way she did when she first opened up the restaurant. It might be a little selfish of me, but I don't want Kirinoya to close down. I really do believe we're the best kaiseki place in the world."

"I feel the same," Shinomiya admitted, a smile crossing his lips. "I'll do my best to be of use. Even if my feet hurt."

A hearty laugh erupted from Mamiko's lungs. "I'm sure you will!"

After slapping Shinomiya's shoulder in a good-natured manner, she began to walk over to the doorway, yelling out a goodbye to Shinomiya before ducking her head and disappearing into the hallway. He stood there and thought to himself for a moment, eventually concluding that he would go and discuss the topic properly with Hinako. His aching feet carried him in the direction of the kitchen, though they stuttered to a halt right outside the doorway. There was an unfamiliar black-haired woman in there. Shinomiya shuffled back slightly so that he wouldn't be in her line of vision, but not so far that he wouldn't be able to hear what was going on.

"Listen, I couldn't come in," the stranger insisted. "I couldn't. You can't fire me for having a social life, alright?"

"Yes, I can," Hinako snapped. It took Shinomiya a few moments to place a face to the voice, but he was eventually able to link the dots together: Imari, sous chef and childhood friend of Hinako.

"This isn't a game where you can pay ten golden coins to erase your mistakes," Hinako continued. "This is a _business_. We've all been having to work ten times harder because you decided that drinking was more important than fulfilling your obligations here!"

"I _said_ I'm sorry, didn't I?"

"You're clearly not if you're still arguing with me."

Imari let out a sigh. "You know I can't pay the bills without this job. I'll end up on the streets."

Shinomiya was dying to intervene and put Imari in her place, but the rational side of him was telling him that he had to trust Hinako to handle her own problems. So, he gritted his teeth together while internally begging Hinako not to give into Imari's demands.

"You did it to yourself," Hinako said after a pause. "I've been trying to help you, but you don't seem to want to help yourself."

"Okay, okay. Come on. You can't run this place without _me_," Imari insisted. "I'm the centrepiece to everything."

"Don't get cocky. Everyone's as important as each other here."

"Really? Without _me_, your presentation would be like all the other restaurants out there. Who's the one that gave you the idea for wooden capsules again? Yeah, that's right," Imari huffed. "It was _me_."

"No, no, no. _Nacchan_ came up with the idea of using wooden capsules to store our spices in. I created them. All you did was come by and suggest that I could also use them for serving. That's it. You didn't help me develop it. You didn't come up with the initial idea."

"Still, _I'm_ the one who got you using them in the restaurant. Every time we get customers, they always compliment the capsules. It's not even the food that's the trademark," Imari insisted. "It's the capsules. If it wasn't for _me_, they would have never left the kitchen."

There was a long pause in which no-one spoke. Shinomiya felt himself beginning to panic internally. _Don't give in, Hinako. Don't give in. Don't give—_

"Fine."

When he heard that, Shinomiya finally decided it was time for him to step in. But, just as soon as he'd taken his first step towards the doorway, Hinako's voice was hitting his ears once again, this time a lot harsher than he'd expected.

"Take the capsules if you care so much about them. It won't change my final decision."

Shinomiya hastily withdrew back to his initial spot, relieved at the fact that Hinako was sticking to her guns.

"I'm your _best friend_!"

"I mean… not really," Hinako said after a pause. "We've had this conversation."

"Twenty years of friendship and you're _still_ telling me that you'd rather be best friends with that selfish piece of shit? Is it the money or what?"

"I'm not you. I don't see people as money bags," Hinako replied, sounding somewhat exasperated.

"Oh, come _on_. I don't see why else you'd choose him over me," Imari snapped. "He couldn't even be bothered to come to the opening of Kirinoya and you call him your best friend? _Fuck_ that. You're getting mad at me for missing a few days of work meanwhile he missed your birthday, the opening of your restaurant _and_ the Elite Ten reunion. You're complaining at the wrong person, Hinako."

It wasn't often that Shinomiya allowed other people's words to affect him, but given that he'd been struggling with his feelings as of recent, hearing Imari's words only made him feel even worse. He couldn't even get offended because it was _true_. It was true, and there was no avoiding that.

"He can be a prick sometimes. I'm not denying that," Hinako firmly stated. "But I understand his actions. He gets really fixated on being the best. It's all he thinks about sometimes. It's like tunnel vision. He becomes blind to everything that isn't to do with his kitchen, and it only gets worse when he's stressed. I mean, it's easy to say that he's a selfish prick and leave it at that, but imagine having the entire world constantly on your back, waiting for you to make new dishes, nitpicking at your every move. With that amount of pressure, I don't blame him for getting tunnel vision. One birthday party is pretty insignificant when you've got an entire legacy at your fingers."

Imari sighed. "You're looking a whole lot like a doormat right now, Hinako."

"What the hell's that meant to mean?"

"If fucking Gordon Ramsey has time to go to his kids' birthday parties while also filming for a dozen shows and cooking at his own restaurants, I'm pretty sure that 'best friend' of yours should be able to spare _one_ out of three hundred and sixty-five days to celebrate your birthday. Don't you think?"

Hinako didn't respond.

"I mean, it's your life. But… I'd re-evaluate that little decision there," Imari said. "Then again, don't take advice from me. I can't even turn up to work on time. Sorry again, by the way. I know it's a dick move to just stop turning up, but… I don't know. I got stressed. You know my family life's been pretty hectic recently, so… I've been drinking. A lot. As you already know. Now my mind won't stay still for long enough for me to think about cooking. That's why I haven't been coming in. I probably wouldn't have come here tonight either if someone had invited me out for drinks. I think everyone's sick of me though, so… yeah. Here I am."

"…why didn't you just tell me that? I would've given you time off."

"This isn't the kind of thing that gets solved with a few days off work. It's a process. To be completely honest, I'm surprised you waited this long to fire me," Imari admitted.

Hinako sighed. "I didn't want to have to fire you. It's not as fun without you here."

"You know you could just drink a pint or two if you want to have fun?"

"No thanks." Shinomiya could hear the grimace in Hinako's voice. "The taste would kill me."

Both women began to laugh. Though the mood between them had become much more lighthearted than it had been before, Shinomiya couldn't help but feel as if his conscience was poised at the very tip of guilt, a tip which was splitting in two and engulfing him as the seconds ticked by. Imari's words about him were lingering in his mind, glued to his every thought.

"God, I can't believe I just had a fit over _capsules_," Imari said, laughing to herself. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm still hungover from last night. I'm not really thinking straight. Ugh. I'm a mess."

"Right now, yeah. Your hair's seen better days," Hinako admitted. "Calm down on the drinking. I mean, unless you want to get your stomach pumped in hospital."

"Can't promise anything."

Hinako sighed. "Thought you'd say that."

"Also, I know I haven't been much help recently, but you'd better keep Kirinoya open," Imari threatened. "You're running your dream restaurant. I'm sorry for fucking things up, but you know me. I'm a destructive force that can't stop disappointing my parents. Hah."

"It's not your fault, idiot," Hinako replied, now sounding a little emotional. "It was never your fault."

"Really? This was your dream, Hinako. Your _dream_," Imari said. "Why else would you want to give up on it?"

"Some dreams are stupid. Kirinoya happens to be one of those." Hinako let out a heavy sigh. "I'm the only person from my generation of Elite Ten members who hasn't got three Michelin stars. The guy who was tenth seat has three Michelin stars and is on track to open a second location in Shibuya. But me? Second seat? I've got one single star to my name. To put it bluntly… I feel like a high school athlete living off past glories. It sucks. I'm tired of not living up to people's expectations."

"So you're just going to give up?"

"It's not giving up," Hinako fiercely insisted.

"That's _exactly_ what it is. Fuck. I didn't think you were that weak."

"Weak? I'm not the one trying to find happiness at the bottom of a bottle, am I?"

"Don't turn this on me," Imari fired back. "We're talking about _you_. Listen. Thousands of restaurants open every year. _Sixty_ percent of those close before the year's even up. Eighty percent are gone when you dial it up to five years. That leaves twenty percent. And how many restaurants are there in that twenty percent that get recognised by Michelin? One percent. You are _in_ that one percent. One star might not sound like that much. But you're already in that elite quarter _just because_ you've kept it going for so long. Your friends are all professional chefs. There's _so much_ potential that you haven't even unlocked yet. You're a fucking idiot if you choose to stop now. Chefs are meant to use _everything_ around them. They're meant to take inspiration from everywhere. You feel like you suck? Make as many sucky dishes as you want until you feel angry. Use that anger to make the best fucking dish of your life. And while you're at it, _keep Kirinoya open_. With or without me."

Even though Shinomiya knew that the advice was intended for Hinako, he couldn't help but feel as if it were directed towards him as well. He'd been making a lot of uninspired dishes this year, geared only towards winning the hearts of gourmands across the world. Maybe, just maybe, it was time for him to slog his way through a whole load of sucky dishes so that he could make the best dish of his entire career.

A specialty that even someone like Robuchon could eat.

"…I didn't realise you cared so much," Hinako blurted. "I… I… I don't know what to say."

"_Fine, I won't close Kirinoya_," Imari suggested, trying her best to imitate Hinako's voice.

Hinako let out a small giggle. "I'm still not sure. But… I guess I've got some sucky dishes to make tomorrow. Some company would be nice."

"Throw in a pint or two afterwards and I'm in," Imari replied.

"As long as you don't expect me to drink that trash."

"Deal. Now stop crying. You're making me feel awkward."

After a minute of standing there in complete silence, Shinomiya turned away from the doorway and towards the exit, not really sure what to feel. He'd been alternating between guilt and awkwardness, but now that a whole host of emotions had joined the duo, everything had just… shut down. He couldn't feel anything.

He wasn't sure what it was, but for tonight… he just wanted nothing more than to sleep.

* * *

Come Sunday morning, Shinomiya was woken up by a loud bleep from his phone. He stared over at his phone through bleary eyes before drifting back off to sleep once again. He had no idea what time it was, but judging by the birdsong outside his window, it was way too early for someone to be messaging him.

_Bleep. Bleep._

_ Bleep. Bleep_.

_Bleep. Bleep._

"Fuck's sake," he muttered, letting out a growl of irritation as he lazily reached a hand out towards his phone. "This better be important."

**u awake?**

**-Hinako [Received 07:57]**

**shinomiyaaaaa**

**-Hinako [Received 07:58]**

**shinoshinoshinoshinomiyaaaa**

**-Hinako [Received 07:58]**

**s**

**-Hinako [Received 07:59]**

**h**

**-Hinako [Received 07:59]**

**i**

**-Hinako [Received 07:59]**

**n**

**-Hinako [Received 07:59]**

**I am now**

**-Shinomiya [Sent 08:00]**

**could've at least let me finish ¬_¬**

**-Hinako [Received 08:00]**

**anyway where are you? it's initiation day**

**-Hinako [Received 08:01]**

**No, it's SUNDAY. Fuck off.**

**-Shinomiya [Sent 08:02]**

**you mean to tell me that you were actually sleeping?**

**omg it's a christmas miracle**

**-Hinako [Received 08:02]**

**It's not even Christmas…**

**-Shinomiya [Sent 08:03]**

**too bad. now get your ass over to Kirinoya**

**-Hinako [Received 08:03]**

**Wait. What do you even mean by 'initiation day'?**

**-Shinomiya [Sent 08:04]**

**you've been banging on and on about how you want**

**more of a role in the kitchen, right? now's your chance**

**-Hinako [Received 08:04]**

**you've gotta prepare a traditional kaiseki course.**

**four dishes though, not fourteen**

**-Hinako [Received 08:05]**

**You can't just spring that on me at EIGHT IN THE MORNING**

**-Shinomiya [Sent 08:05]**

**it's kaiseki dummy everything's meant to be unpredictable**

**-Hinako [Received 08:86]**

**i already know you're gr8 at developing dishes. but i wanna**

**see if you can think up great dishes on the spot and**

**IMPROVISE. if you're going to be helping me in the kitchen**

**you've gotta be good at it.**

**-Hinako [Received 08:07]**

**or you could just pussy out. your choice.**

**-Hinako [Received 08:05]**

**Fine. I'm coming.**

**-Shinomiya [Sent 08:06]**

**hurry it up if you can. i'm hungryyyyyy**

**-Hinako [Received 08:07]**

* * *

"…wow, that was actually good," Hinako said, setting down her chopsticks with a decisive thump. Shinomiya was relieved by the statement — based off Hinako's facial expression alone, he'd been unable to decipher just how she felt about the course as a whole. She'd managed to keep a straight face the whole time, apart from the time when Natsu walked through to offer her a new flower. Her face had lit up then.

"Does that mean I can finally help out in the kitchen?"

"I dunno. I mean… those plate sizes were _interesting_. Not in a good way either," Hinako replied with a raised eyebrow. "It doesn't make sense to have a huge plate with a tiny bit of food at the centre and a bit of garnish. Like, the portion size itself is acceptable, but _why is the plate so big_?"

"…that's a lot of rage for one plate."

Hinako sighed. "I'm just saying, I wish you'd used smaller plates. We don't even use those plates for _serving_, we use them for prep! Jeez. One of the _first_ things I told you was that the dish is just as important as the food and it looks like you forgot that entirely! You can't make a pretty dish like this and then serve it on a stupid plain plate—"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Shinomiya said, waving away Hinako's critiques as he knelt at the table, his movements more graceful than they had been at the beginning of the week. "I'm not perfect. But… outside of the plate sizes, how did I do?"

"Well… to be completely honest, you exceeded my expectations. This is so different from your usual style of cooking. Don't you think? I mean, look. Just look at this."

Hinako gestured towards her half-eaten plate of eggplant sashimi on a bed of fresh, crispy greens. The corners had been garnished with small flowers.

"It's still vegetables. It's still you. But there's no 'glitzy food tricks' that everyone knows you for. You just focused on refining the taste and the flavour to its fullest. It's a different side of you. It feels more… authentic. You're not trying to show off. You're just making something that tastes _really fucking delicious_. Hell, it's even vegetarian. Nacchan would love it. Well… as long as I don't tell her you made it."

Shinomiya scoffed at the mention of Natsu, but didn't bother to express his distaste verbally.

"The best part is that it keeps to the ideals of what kaiseki should be," Hinako said, excitedly waving her hands about. "The entire course was consistent. The flavours were consistent. There was a _story_ and let me tell you, that's a story I wouldn't mind reading every week. Not quite daily, but weekly? Hell yeah. The only thing I wish is that you'd done a sweet dish. Your course is savoury, appealing to the eye, but _there's no fucking sugar_. How did you forget about my sweet tooth?"

"…fair point. I don't tend to do sweet dishes," Shinomiya explained. "Confectionery isn't my thing."

"It is now. That's your homework," Hinako announced. "Make me something that'll satisfy my sweet tooth! It's due in an hour."

"Oh, _come on_." Shinomiya let out a groan. "I _just_ made you four different dishes. That was the deal."

"Aren't you meant to be Chef of the Year? Chop chop," Hinako said, shooing him away with one hand. "My stomach's waiting."

Shinomiya grudgingly dragged himself up onto his feet and out into the forest, muttering under his breath about how it should be illegal to be constantly going back and forth in this kind of weather. Japan's summers had always been much, much hotter than in France. It didn't help matters that he had to do it all while wearing a heavy golden kimono.

"You gonna keep standing there or what?"

Natsu was standing a metre away from him, one hand poised on her hip as she regarded him.

"You're ruining the scenery," Natsu said. "Move."

"I need your help."

Natsu scoffed. "Why would I help _you_?"

"Who knows?" Shinomiya smirked. "You might need my help in the future."

"Nah. I'd rather die."

On that note, she walked past him and into Kirinoya. After a good minute had passed, it became clear that she wasn't planning to come back out to help him. He let out a heavy sigh and ventured into the forest, all the while brainstorming through any possible sweet dishes he could make. Various recipes whizzed through his mind, but none of them really seemed to stick. He didn't do sweet. He _didn't_. He could make French confectionery, but he didn't have the ingredients required to make the dishes he could make.

His eyes fell upon a cluster of adzuki beans growing from the ground. Their exterior was a rich, vibrant red shade. He didn't know much about confectionery, but he knew that adzuki beans — or more simply, red beans — were instrumental to a lot of traditional Japanese sweets. With a bit of sugar and boiling, he'd end up with red bean paste. From there, he could figure the rest out. At least, that was what he was hoping for.

He delicately plucked off as many beans as he could cup in one hand before hurrying back in the direction of the kitchen. Once he'd gotten in, he set the beans down in the first bowl he could find and grabbed a small pot from the drying rack. Once the hob was blazing and the pot was simmering with a suitable amount of water, Shinomiya began to get to work. He'd already used up fifteen minutes of the sixty that Hinako had granted him — five minutes to reach the red bean cluster, two minutes to collect the amount he needed, another five minutes back to the kitchen, then the three he'd just used to turn on the hob and fill up the pot with water.

* * *

_"How do you not have a favourite food? Everyone's got a favourite food," Hinako insisted, both eyebrows raised at him from across the table._

_ "Well, I don't."_

_ "You're so boring." Hinako took a mouthful of her food before continuing to speak. "So, when you got the first seat, you're telling me you didn't eat some sort of celebratory dish?"_

_ "Not really… I mean, I was kind of expecting to get the first seat. Nothing worth celebrating."_

_ Hinako rolled her eyes. "You're so boring."_

_ "You said that."_

_ "Well, I'm saying it thrice. You're boring."_

_ Shinomiya set his smoothie down on the table, directing a dark glare in Hinako's direction. "Just because I don't limit myself to one favourite dish? You're an absolute dunce if you think that there's any merit in doing that."_

_ "Sure, sure. Say what you want," Hinako said, chuckling to herself. "But there's gotta be one dish that you'll always consider home. You know? You just eat it and it takes you back to a happy time in your life. Even when everything feels like crap — I mean, ever since I got the third seat, the paperwork's been absolute hell — you just sit down, eat that one dish, and it keeps you going. You're telling me you don't have a dish like that?"_

_ "Nope." Shinomiya slurped the remainders of his smoothie before continuing to speak. "By the way, what the hell are you eating? I see rice, but what are those brown things?"_

_ "It's a dessert-style dish native to Hokkaido. Or, in other words, my favourite food!" Hinako grinned. "Basically, it's—"_

_ "Wait." Shinomiya held up a hand to silence her, quickly using the other to answer his ringing phone. He had to distance the phone from his ear, however, when he realised that it was Mizuhara yelling down his ear about how he needed to "hurry his ass up to class before he gets marked absent". He hung up the phone before turning his attention to Hinako, whose smile was still as bright as ever._

_ "Sorry. Gotta go," Shinomiya said, sighing as he slid out of his chair. "I'm sure Chapelle-sensei won't be too pleased if I miss French cuisine. Also, feel free to slide your paperwork under my door. I've got some free time tonight."_

_ "You're a lifesaver," Hinako replied, putting both hands together. "Thank you."_

* * *

"Fucking Mizuhara," Shinomiya muttered, pacing back and forth. Even _now_, Mizuhara was managing to piss him off without actually being in the room with him. "What the hell was that dish? What was it? It was definitely a sweet dish…"

When he heard the bubbling of the pot on the hob, he knew that he couldn't waste too much time pondering. He threw the beans into the water before turning the heat down drastically, making sure it was set to a temperature where it could just simmer peacefully. He then put the lid down on the pot and continued to ponder his options. He could try to recreate the dish — after all, there was rice available that he could make use of. But Hinako was more or less a master at making rice. She made rice nearly every single shift. Shinomiya, on the other hand, didn't make it nearly as often as Hinako did. Any attempts would likely prove inferior to Hinako's taste buds, so… he needed something else. He couldn't make Hinako's favourite food, not unless he wanted to embarrass himself.

But, maybe he could put his own little spin on it. Something traditional, something seasonal… what could he do with the red beans? The most obvious choice was to make them into a paste. As a paste, red beans were incredibly versatile. They could be used as a filling for rice balls or a topping for pancakes. If cooked at the lowest temperature possible, Shinomiya could even use them in a soup. He could. But that wouldn't be staying true to his style of cooking. Using red beans as the main filling would be way too predictable. And, most importantly, it wouldn't keep in line with a dish that Hinako could call her 'favourite'. Shinomiya didn't have his own favourite dish that he could make.

However, he _did_ have a trick up his sleeve that he could use.

* * *

"You're thirty seconds late."

Shinomiya let out a sigh as he entered the room, delicately balancing a wooden capsule on his palm. "Nature freak decided it would be funny to trip me up while I was walking. The capsule saved the dish though, thank God."

Hinako nodded. "I'll let it slide."

On that note, Shinomiya placed the capsule in front of Hinako before taking a seat opposite her, carefully watching for any sort of reaction. When Hinako lifted the lid off the capsule, a curious smile began to tug at her lips.

"Didn't know you could make mochi."

Shinomiya shrugged. "If there's one thing I learnt from Japanese cuisine class, it was that."

Hinako chuckled before looking back down at the dish that Shinomiya had prepared. In the centre of the capsule, there was a gleaming bite-sized piece of mochi with a tidy scattering of black sesame praline on top.

"So, I'm guessing you used a black sesame filling for the mochi?"

"Nope. Red bean," Shinomiya replied with a slight smirk on his lips. "C'mon. I'm not _that_ predictable."

A grimace appeared on Hinako's face. "You put red bean and black sesame together?"

"Don't need to make that face, Hinako."

"I do," Hinako insisted, looking down at the dish then back up at Shinomiya. "Ugh. Why would you _do_ that? You can't put them together. You can't! You can make red bean mochi and black sesame mochi and serve them together but you can't _combine_ them! You know what?" Hinako folded her arms together, a slight pout forming on her lips. "I'm not eating it. Your homework gets an F."

Shinomiya's facial expression soured. "Are you serious?"

"I told you. I want something to satisfy my sweet tooth, not aggravate it."

"At least _try_ it."

Hinako sighed. "Fine."

She reluctantly slipped her chopsticks into her right hand, using them to lift the mochi. It wasn't long before a slight look of interest flickered in her eyes.

"What's that liquid at the bottom? I didn't notice it before."

"_Crème anglaise_ _à la pêche_," Shinomiya replied.

"Gonna pretend I know what that means." Hinako rolled her eyes as she dipped the bottom of the mochi into the _crème anglaise_ before popping it into her mouth. Before, she'd been frowning as she navigated her way through what the capsule had to offer, but now a look of surprise was tweaking her facial expression. It wasn't long until her lips had formed into a perfectly round 'O', her eyes alive with some sort of emotion that Shinomiya couldn't even identify.

"Jesus Christ. Say something already," Shinomiya prompted.

Hinako stared down at the now-empty capsule, then up at Shinomiya who was waiting with an impatient look on his face. After a few moments of her stuttering, she was finally able to get her words out.

"It tastes like home."

Shinomiya was a little taken aback by the comment. He'd more or less accepted that he wouldn't be creating any masterpieces in the kitchen today — after all, he'd been going off little tricks and methods he'd learnt over _ten years ago_ at Totsuki. Hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd made any sort of dish that could be classed as confectionery.

"Red beans were like a staple in our household," Hinako explained. "The praline's a little different, but the _crème _whatever gives it a really similar sugary boost. When you combine all three… it works. I don't know how, but it works."

"The _crème anglaise_," Shinomiya explained. "Red bean and black sesame are typically eaten separately, but because of the _crème anglaise_, it more or less melds the two flavours together so that you can enjoy them at the same time. I put a bit of it at the bottom, but I also lightly coated the exterior of the mochi with the _crème anglaise_ before putting the praline on. Also, since peaches are in season right now, I got some peach juice and infused that into the _crème anglaise_."

Hinako nodded her head. "That's pretty cool. _But_, just so you know, that dessert wasn't perfect. The mochi itself was really nice, but there was a pretty unpleasant aftertaste. You should've used chestnut to counter that. You could've used a little more _crème anglaise_. Don't be frugal. _And_ you could've really amped up on the sugar a bit more. Seriously! It's _dessert_. On that note, I'll give you a C."

Shinomiya nodded.

"No arguments?" Hinako tilted her head to the side. "You usually argue critiques to the death."

"Nah." Shinomiya shrugged. "I hear you."

There was a long pause before Hinako replied. "Seriously, you've changed. A lot. You started going to therapy or something?"

Shinomiya's facial expression soured. "What makes you think I need therapy?"

"Don't get me started."

Hinako was quick to take her words back when Shinomiya lifted up a nearby slipper, aiming it in her direction. "Okay, okay, you don't need therapy…"

Shinomiya put the slipper back down.

"…yet," Hinako concluded, bursting into laughter as soon as she'd said it. Shinomiya couldn't even be annoyed this time — he simply rolled his eyes and stretched his arms out as he got up to his feet, wincing when he heard a loud 'crack' from his joints. He really needed to start stretching more often.

"Hey, Hinako."

She was still too busy laughing to respond to Shinomiya's prompt.

"I heard your conversation with that Imari girl on Friday night."

At that, Hinako's laughter got caught in her throat. "Huh?"

Shinomiya didn't respond — he simply raised an eyebrow in response. This was one of the times where he preferred to communicate through eyebrow raises rather than actual words.

"You heard? Well… shit," Hinako said after a brief pause, also rising to her feet with the empty capsule in hand. "I'm surprised you didn't burst in halfway through."

"Not gonna lie, I was tempted."

"Thought so." A slight smile appeared on Hinako's lips as the two of them began to walk together, already sure of their final destination. "Well… yeah. I guess the cat's out of the bag. I'm thinking of leaving the profession."

"Oh, I already knew that."

Hinako's eyebrows furrowed together, a slight pout appearing on her lips. "_What_? How? _I_ didn't tell you."

"Doujima-san," Shinomiya replied.

"So… that's why you came down," Hinako said, the realisation dawning on her. "You heard the news."

"No, I came down because I realised I need to pay more attention to your restaurant." Shinomiya sighed and looked around himself, eyes lingering on the soft lights above him. A few more steps and he'd be standing in the kitchen. "Imari was right. I'm inherently a selfish person. I haven't paid enough attention to you and your achievements, so for that… I'm sorry. I really am sorry. I didn't realise just how much you were struggling with Kirinoya. I should've done more to help you. So… I'm sorry."

Hinako was silent for a few moments, but she eventually nodded her head. "Don't worry about it. You're here now, right?"

"Yeah." Shinomiya grinned. "I am. Here to stay for the entire month."

"Maybe I should borrow you for the entirety of next month too," Hinako joked.

"I can't disappear for _that_ long, dunce. In three weeks, Robuchon's going to be sitting in my restaurant."

Shinomiya paused when he realised that Hinako had stopped in her tracks. She was giving him a suspicious look, almost as if she didn't believe what she'd just heard.

"Wait," she said, eyes trained on Shinomiya's. "Did you just say Robuchon? As in Joel Robuchon, one of _the_ biggest chefs in the world?"

Shinomiya nodded.

"W…W…W…"

It was as if all the muscles in Hinako's face had slackened all at once. She was goggle-eyed, mouth hanging wide open while syllables fell out in a random, disorganised mess. It was as if the ability of speech had evaded her to the point that she could only utilise movement, moving closer and closer to Shinomiya until there was scarcely any space left between their bodies.

"A—Are you kidding? Joel Robuchon?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

Without warning, Hinako's hand flicked out at Shinomiya's forehead, a painful twang hitting him smack-bang in the centre. He took several steps back to defend himself from any further hand-flicking, holding both hands up to ward Hinako off.

"Hina—"

"What the hell are you doing here, idiot? Chef Robuchon's one of the top chefs in the _world_," Hinako emphasised, barely able to hold back her irritation as her arms flailed out around her, narrowly missing Shinomiya on more than one occasion. "You should be honing your talents, not learning a whole new cuisine style!"

"Sorry," Shinomiya said, lowering his hands in an attempt to get Hinako to calm down. "Also, that hurt. Idiot."

"Good!" Hinako let out a harrumph before folding her arms in a stubborn gesture. "I get you feel guilty for being a shitty friend and all, but come on! Robuchon could _end_ your career if you serve him an unsatisfactory dish. He could go to the media and say 'lol Shinomiya's overrated as fuck' and boom, you lose all your Michelins, lose all your customers and then you'll get depressed, fat, and what? _Irrelevant_."

"I'd rather risk my career than yours, Hinako," Shinomiya said, his tone serious as he took a step forwards. "Honestly. If me being here helps you to realise that you've still got a lot to offer the cooking world… I'll stay. I don't want you to leave the profession. And… I don't want to lose my best friend."

Hinako was trying to keep a stern expression on her face, but Shinomiya could tell from the look in her eyes alone that she was beginning to relent.

"Still… it's _Robuchon_," Hinako emphasised. "_The_ Joel Robuchon. This could be one of the biggest things in your entire career."

"Don't care," Shinomiya replied. "There's no point being successful if I have no-one to share that success with. Yeah, I love my kitchen. But I need to start paying attention to everything else around me as well. You're the only close friend I've got left, Hinako. I'm staying."

"For God's sake, why do you have to be so stubborn?"

"That's how I am," he responded with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Fine," Hinako said after a brief pause, reluctantly nodding her head. "If you insist. I'll initiate you."

She chopped Shinomiya's left shoulder, chopping his right shoulder and then flicking the centre of his forehead. Shinomiya flinched at the touch, but Hinako simply laughed and lowered her hand.

"You're officially part of the gang," Hinako announced. "I do that initiation thing to everyone, no worries. I still think you're an idiot for choosing me over _Joel fucking Robuchon_, but… thanks."

The smile on Hinako's lips was more than enough to satisfy Shinomiya.

"Don't thank me until I've managed to convince you to keep Kirinoya open."

Now, a competitive burn was beginning to make itself prevalent from within him. It was different from the burn of pride — pride was a cosy feeling. Competition, however, was a fiery sensation that would engulf Shinomiya if left unchecked. It was circulating through his blood, through his veins, through his heart.

It was everywhere, and Shinomiya liked the way it felt.


	5. Love Talk (Bonus Chapter)

Chapter Five: Love Talk (Bonus Scene)

It was later that morning when Hinako and Shinomiya found themselves sitting in the dining room together. The table was bathed in sunlight, though the sunlight was beginning to spill off the table and onto the two of them as the sun rose higher and higher in the air.

"You know Donato?"

Shinomiya let out a hum, his eyes remaining closed. "What about him?"

"He's got a girlfriend now," Hinako said. Shinomiya opened one eye and peered towards her. "The sister of some Totsuki student who did a Stagiaire at his restaurant."

"So, are Stagiaires the new form of dating now?"

"Clearly." Hinako let out a snort of laughter. "I mean, it's not like us chefs can date normally. As a rule, chefs have the worst love lives. Minus Donato, all you have to do is look at everyone else in our generation."

"Burn."

"It's true though," Hinako insisted, flinging herself down on the ground so that she could stare up at the ceiling above her. "I mean, most of us are basically married to our kitchens. That's why it's easy to be with someone who also loves the kitchen. Or food in general, really…" A wistful smile appeared on her lips. "I'm guessing your love life hasn't been too eventful since you-know-who," she prompted.

"Well… you're not wrong."

"Of course," Hinako trilled. "I'm never wrong."

Shinomiya rolled his eyes, but didn't make a move to challenge Hinako.

"I've tried dating since Yukihira, but it hasn't really worked out," Shinomiya admitted, letting out a heavy sigh. "Like you said, trying to date someone who's not a chef is a fucking rollercoaster. Nine out of ten times, I get a message along the lines of 'oh, you're a chef? I can't even cook toast without burning it'. What, am I meant to laugh? Get off Tinder and go learn how to make fucking toast!"

A laugh bubbled out from Hinako's lips. "You're really taking this seriously, huh?"

"Hardly," Shinomiya replied, letting out a derisive snort. "Dating apps suck. I might be a sleep-deprived mess and all, but I still have standards. Someone really messaged me saying _so, you're a chef? How would you like to handle my buns?_ I deleted the app after that."

This time, Hinako let out a loud snort of laughter. "Oh, come on. That person sounds like fun. Man, I'll date them _for you_ if you want."

"No, Hinako. Just… no," Shinomiya said, wrinkling his nose in disdain. "What happened to old-fashioned conversation? Why's everyone always trying to use shitty pickup lines rather than, you know, relying on their actual personalities?"

"Because it's _funny_," Hinako countered. "You're just boring. Seriously."

"I'm boring for wanting someone with a personality?"

Hinako raised an eyebrow. "No, you're just boring."

Shinomiya rolled his eyes in response, planning to dismiss the comment just as he did all the others, but for some reason, he couldn't help but find himself evaluating the course of his life. He'd never really done anything truly reckless. Day in, day out, he went to work and nothing more. That had been his life this year. Everything had been about work. Work, work, and work.

"Maybe you're right," Shinomiya admitted. "I am boring."

"Well, yeah," Hinako replied. "You are. But, not in personality. You've probably got one of the most unique personalities I've come across. Your life just sounds so _boring_ for someone as cool as you. Work's the only thing you ever do. I admire your dedication, but you don't give yourself enough time to actually live, you know? There's more to life than work."

"I enjoy work, dunce," Shinomiya countered. "If I enjoy it, why shouldn't I do it all the time?"

"If you enjoyed it as much as you'd claim, you'd understand the importance of taking a break," Hinako calmly replied. "For example, I close Kirinoya during the winter. It gives me time to hibernate and think up new ideas. That way, when the winter's over, I'm full of energy and can give my all to something I enjoy doing. If you turn your passion into a daily routine… it stops being a passion. Don't you think? It just becomes an obligation. It sucks all the fun out of it. You start to cook because it's the only thing you can do, not because it's something you want to do. And when you go home at night, you feel lost. You—"

"Shut up," Shinomiya interjected. "That's not how I feel."

Hinako raised her eyebrows. "Alright. Sure. But… I just want you to know one thing. When you eventually end up burning yourself out and running out of ideas, it doesn't mean you suck or that you're not working hard enough. It means that you need to _rest_ so that you can be the best you possible. You're a chef, not a machine."

Shinomiya nodded, though he was a little taken aback by her sincerity. He'd been expecting some sort of hidden insult, but there was none. All he could do was quietly thank her before lowering his head down on the ground next to hers. He stared up at the ornate ceiling while sunrays poked through the window and washed over his face. He felt as if he were glowing. Having the sun around him wherever he went gave him the sense of walking around in some sort of dreamland. In the kitchen, there was sunlight. Outside, there was sunlight. In the dining room, there was sunlight. Every nook and cranny was bursting with sunbeams, not to mention, the smell of mint and other fresh ingredients. It was incredibly calming.

"Finally, you took a compliment," Hinako enthused. "It's about time. You know, you put on this whole bravado like you're so confident, but really, I bet you doubt yourself just as much as anyone else."

Shinomiya raised his eyebrows. "Since when did you become my therapist?"

"Way to dodge the topic," Hinako teased. "Fine. I'll let it go. Let's talk about me."

"Alright," Shinomiya replied. "Well… since we were on the topic of love lives, I'll ask about yours. How's it going?"

"Considering that everyone's convinced that we're 'hiding our love for each other', not very well."

"Wait, who's 'everyone'?"

"The media," Hinako replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "You wouldn't know though, since you deleted your Twitter and all."

"See? I'm minding my own business and the media's still obsessed with me," Shinomiya said, rolling his eyes as he stretched his arms upwards. "Jesus Christ. Did they forget I came out, or what?"

"Actually, loads of people think it was a publicity stunt."

"_What_? Seriously?"

"Yup," Hinako replied. "As far as the media's concerned, we're still Mr and Mrs."

Shinomiya let out a low groan. "Seriously, fuck the media."

"Yeah. Fuck the media."

They laughed to themselves once more, basking in the sun as they lay on the warm tatami. Shinomiya closed his eyes, taking some time to think through the entirety of last year. It had definitely been a rollercoaster. He'd ended up reliving the same memories he'd tried to shut away for God knows how long. He'd believed in hope, only to have it snatched away from him. He'd faced his demons and come out on live television, only to be completely disregarded.

This year hadn't been much of an improvement. He'd spent half of it holed up in his kitchen in an attempt to forget, all the while forgetting that in order to forget bad memories, he needed to make happier ones. He'd rather remember days spent lying in the sun than days of him waking up on the couch, floor, counter, table… basically, anywhere except a bed.

"Alright, I _may_ have fibbed a little," Hinako said after a long silence. "My love life… it's dead, but there _is_ someone that I kinda like…"

"Let me guess. Miss '_I hate you because you littered_'?"

"Eh?" Hinako's cheeks went a little pink with embarrassment. "You figured it out that quickly?"

"You're not exactly subtle. I figured it out the second you called her 'Nacchan'," Shinomiya stated in a matter-of-fact tone, raising an eyebrow in Hinako's direction. "Just saying, I'm pretty sure she'd reciprocate those feelings if you told her."

"No way," Hinako said, going bright red. "I'm her _boss_, idiot. Besides, I said 'kinda'."

Shinomiya continued to stare at Hinako with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay, fine! I really like her," Hinako admitted, her cheeks burning even harder than they had been before. "Jeez, I hate you… making me admit stuff…"

It felt strange to watch Hinako acting in such a bashful manner. She'd always been an affectionate person, but watching her blush and stutter was something new entirely to Shinomiya. It was strange, but in a cutesy sort of way.

"Looks-wise, I can see the appeal," Shinomiya admitted. "But on the other hand… are you telling me you've _never_ had the urge to throw her in that damn stream? Never?"

"I know you hate her and all, but there _is_ a lot more to her than you're seeing."

"Doubt that," Shinomiya fired back. "If Monday had a human form, it would be her."

Hinako raised her eyebrows. "Come on. Out of everyone, you should be able to understand her the most. Think about your own personality, Shinomiya. Generally, you're hard to get to know and you're usually mean to people as a defence mechanism. It's the same for her. She's just a little bit further down that spectrum than you."

Shinomiya sighed. "How'd you end up hiring her, anyway?"

"She was living in this building before I bought it," Hinako replied. "That's how I met her. I came in, ready to start getting rid of all the cobwebs and stuff with my spider catcher machine, but then I see this girl hiding right in the corner. I got terrified and I wanted to run out, but then I was like, wait, I own this place. And, well… I think that was the day things changed for me…"

* * *

_ Her blonde hair was like a cloak around her face, keeping Hinako from seeing just who she was. She hadn't noticed her at first, entering the room ready to get to work, not seeing the small girl curled up within herself in the corner. But then Hinako had heard a small hiccup and turned her head, her gaze colliding with a pair of green eyes which were following her every move. A small part of Hinako's mind was telling her **don't scream, don't scream, don't scream**, but instinct took over as a loud scream erupted from Hinako's lips, her feet scattering back to put some distance between her and the girl._

_ The girl didn't react. Well, save for putting her fingers in her ears._

_ Hinako's cheeks went a bright shade of red as she recovered her faculties, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before letting them slide open once again, looking around herself. She knew this place was a dump — the owner himself had made it clear — but she hadn't expected to find a person living here. The more Hinako looked, the more she realised that this place wasn't uninhabited. There were little signs, like the assortment of berries laid out on a large lily pad and the strangely dust-free wooden floor, then bigger signs like the literal human who was still crouching in the corner of the room._

_ "Hey," Hinako said, her voice gentle as she approached the girl, squatting down so that their heads were level. "You gave me a fright there."_

_ The girl didn't respond. Her stomach, however, decided to let out a loud growl at that moment._

_ "Hungry, huh?" Hinako chuckled to herself. "I wasn't planning to start making any kaiseki dishes before I cleaned this place up, but I guess I could go for some food. Besides, it's good practice, right?"_

_ The confusion in the girl's eyes was more than enough indication that she had no idea what Hinako was talking about. Hinako didn't let it faze her, however. Instead, she stood up and offered her hand to the girl, a bright smile on her face. The girl stared at the hand, reaching out as if to take it, but at the last minute, her hand pulled back and she shrank into herself once more, her eyes dropping to the floor._

_ "Leave me alone," she said, her voice so quiet that Hinako almost didn't hear the words._

_ "Ah, so you do understand Japanese. That's nice," Hinako said, letting out a sigh of relief. "Whew. I suck at languages. My friends are super good at languages though. Especially my best friend. He's Japanese, but he might as well be French. He's better at French cuisine than his own. You know he knows English as well as French and Japanese? He's even thinking of learning more languages! I tried to get him to teach me once, but he got annoyed and told me to leave him alone. So mean…"_

_ The girl let out a sigh. "Don't blame him."_

_ "Aw. That's double mean," Hinako whined, pouting as she flopped down to her feet once more. "Can't we be friends?"_

_ "No. I don't trust people."_

_ "Okay. How can I make you trust me then?"_

_ "You can't. Now, leave me alone."_

_ "Well… technically, you'd have to be the one to leave me alone," Hinako pointed out, pressing a thumb to her cheek as she thought to herself. "I own this place."_

_ "No-one owns anything," the girl insisted. "It all belongs to nature."_

_ "True. You know this place? I chose it because it's so close to nature," Hinako said, letting out a wistful sigh as she leaned her back against the wall. She knew that there would be a layer of dust coating her back when she stood up, but she really didn't care._

_ "I wanted to have a place where people can appreciate things in their natural state," Hinako explained. "Nowadays, everyone wants to make fancy technological dishes. I want to go back to the times where food was simpler. A time where I'd only be able to lean on nature and nothing else if I wanted to eat. Some people think my vision's stupid. Even 'outdated'. But you know what? There's no such thing as 'stupid', not when I've got nature as my ally."_

_ The girl looked up at Hinako, though she still seemed to be a little unsure. "So… you like nature too?"_

_ "Course I do! Why d'ya think I'm a kaiseki chef?"_

_ "I don't know what that means."_

_ "Kaiseki. It's all about the seasons," Hinako explained. "You can't be a kaiseki chef if you don't understand seasonality. Knowing when things taste the yummiest. Finding different flavours in the same product. Combining different flavours together to create an ultimate flavour. It all has to look beautiful as well. It can taste good, but that means nothing if it's ugly. It's got to be beautiful."_

_ The girl began to ask Hinako more and more questions about kaiseki, and as the minutes ticked by, her stance became more and more open. Soon, the two of them were chatting like old friends, Hinako playfully nudging her shoulder while the girl was nice enough to offer a smile in her direction. It wasn't too long before the topic switched from kaiseki to names._

_ "So, I'm Inui Hinako," she explained with a cheery smile. "How about you? What's your name?"_

_ She mumbled something in response, but Hinako didn't quite catch it._

_ "Hmm? Say that again."_

_ "…Natsu."_

_ "Oh, that's nice! Both our names are related to the sun," Hinako cheerily pointed out. "Natsu means 'summer' and Hinako means 'sun child'. You know what that means? We'll make great friends!"_

_ "…you're kinda weird."_

_ Hinako frowned. "Why?"_

_ "I'm in 'your' building, but rather than kicking me out, you're having a conversation with me," Natsu pointed out, eyebrow cocked in confusion. "Are you a loner or something?"_

_ "I'm just a nice person," Hinako insisted, a pout on her lips. "Kicking you out would be a mean thing to do. A chef's job is to make someone feel welcome, no matter what! Even if I'm not serving you food. And even if I wasn't a chef, I wouldn't send a little girl away."_

_ "I'm not a little girl," Natsu grumbled, a sour expression on her face. "I'm twenty-one."_

_ "Twenty-one? No way," Hinako said, looking at her in disbelief. Even though she was still sitting down, Hinako could tell that Natsu wasn't exactly the tallest person out there. She couldn't have been any taller than five foot. Height aside, her facial features were surprisingly… gentle. Though she was a little rough around the edges, there was still an air of innocence about her._

_ It was hard to believe that she was twenty-one._

_ "It's your choice whether you believe me or not," Natsu said, shrugging her shoulders. "You're stupid if you trust someone you only just met though."_

_ "Then I'll be stupid," Hinako announced, a sense of triumph in her words. "I'm twenty-four, so you'll have to tack a 'senpai' on the end of my name. Ooh, go on. Do it, do it. I never got any of my kouhai to call me 'senpai' back at school and I really wish I had. It makes me sad."_

_ Natsu stared at Hinako for a good minute or so before rising to her feet._

_ "You know what, you don't have to kick me out. I'll leave myself."_

_ "Hey, wait," Hinako said, sticking a hand up to grab her attention. "Do you have anywhere to go?"_

_ She raised an eyebrow at Hinako. "There's literally a forest outside, so yeah. I do."_

_ "It's cold though," Hinako said, raising an eyebrow in concern. "Like… it's still pretty chilly in here, but it's even colder outside. You'll freeze."_

_ "Why do you care?"_

_ "I don't want to lose my first employee."_

_ Natsu's facial expression became so sour that even Hinako felt herself beginning to cower in fear. "I'm not working for you. I've made do for the past few years, so what makes you think I'm going to be your 'employee'?"_

_ "Well, if you agree, you can go in the forest as much as you like! You can come in here too," Hinako said, standing up and spreading her arms around the room. "It's pretty ugly right now, but when I'm done… it'll be super pretty. There'll be tatami floors. I'll fix the walls so that they look brand new. And, in this room… I'll put the kitchen right here. It'll smell good all the time, and this will be the warmest room. I'll let you come here and try my dishes all the time! How's that sound?"_

_ "…you said you were from some fancy culinary school, right?"_

_ "Yup! Totsuki Culinary Academy," Hinako replied._

_ "Then no," Natsu sharply replied. "I don't like fancy chefs."_

_ "Are you a chef?"_

_ "Not really. I don't have expensive chopping boards or knives or anything, really. All I have is nature. But… you know, that's a lot on its own," Natsu explained, the hostility disappearing from her voice ever-so-slightly. "But you fancy chefs want to ruin everything! You put science where it doesn't need to be, you set things on fire and do this and that and ruin forests in the name of fine dining! It's ridiculous! I'll never work for you. Never."_

_ "Well, can I at least give you my coat?"_

_ Hinako pulled her fur coat off and handed it out to Natsu, who was eyeing it with a suspicious glint in her eyes._

_ "It's faux fur," Hinako said. "No worries."_

_ "I'm not a charity, lady. I don't want food, I don't want a job, I don't want clothes. I just want you to leave me alone."_

_ "Well… I'm going to do some measurements around here and then leave," Hinako explained. "I'll be here for an hour. If you change your mind in that time… you know where I am."_

_ "I won't change my mind."_

_ Natsu ventured out through the sliding door and out into the forest, leaving Hinako to let out a sigh as she pulled her coat back over her arms. She couldn't deny that she felt somewhat worried about the wellbeing of that girl — no, woman — but she couldn't force her to accept the help she was offering. All she could do was hope that Natsu would warm up to her._

* * *

"She didn't accept the job until I brought her some food," Hinako explained. "I can't even remember what it was. I think it was a broth with lobster and shrimp. One of my experimental dishes. I gave it to her, and well, she started crying. Then she apologised for judging me and said that she'd be more than happy to work with me if it meant she'd get to eat more food like that. She helped me to design this place and taught me about the forest, and in return, I got her a place to stay, paid her rent and made sure she had the basics. She was the first person I hired."

"So… you're telling me that you hired a complete random to work at your restaurant?"

"Yeah. Why's that so weird? Every time I tell people the story, they're always like 'what the hell', but… you know what, she had nothing," Hinako said, frowning as she thought to herself. "Talking to her, I figured that she understood these forests better than anyone else. You could've given me some fancy culinary school student to take her place, but they wouldn't understand all the seasonal ingredients the way that Nacchan does. She knows everything about them — their properties, how their flavours change through the seasons, how they impact dishes. That kind of knowledge isn't something you can learn from a few culinary classes."

"Yeah, she's a master in her own right, but… still. It's a pretty weird way to get an employee," Shinomiya said, shaking his head as he chuckled to himself. "I don't know anyone else who would do something like that."

Hinako let out a hum. "I was just doing the right thing."

"So, let me guess. You found Mamiko in some dingy alleyway?"

"Ha-ha. No, I didn't. I bumped into her on a street corner."

Shinomiya raised an eyebrow. "At this point, I'm not surprised."

"Also, before you ask, I found Akari on Tinder."

"…what happened to being the 'boss'?"

"It's not like I was planning to make her my employee at the time," Hinako whined. "I mean, we went on like one date, kissed, but then it felt awkward and we decided that we were better off as buddies."

"Out of curiosity, did she actually speak during this date? I've never heard her say more than two words in succession…"

"She's not big on talking. It's fine though, 'cause that just means I can talk more," Hinako rationalised, a happy smile spreading across her face as she stuck both thumbs up. "Anyway, I had no idea what she did until I went to a dancing show with Mamiko and we saw Akari performing as the lead ballerina. The performance was so cool, and afterwards, we went and complimented her and stuff. Two weeks later, she messaged me. She'd broken one of her toes after fucking up a spin, so she had to take a break. Chances were, she'd never get to dance again…"

"Oh. That sucks."

"So, I decided to be a Good Samaritan and offered her a job here since she's super graceful and has kimono skills! Before, we'd kind of 'make do' with YouTube tutorials but Akari's mom runs a kimono shop so she actually _knows_ the right way to get a kimono on. She's amazing," Hinako enthused. "It was originally meant to be a 'placeholder job' while her foot healed, but she ended up loving it here and we ended up loving her, so now she's officially ours! It's been about three or four months since she came on board."

"So, the first one was a house-hopper, the second one was a street-crawler and the third one was a Tinder date," Shinomiya recalled, amusement clear in his voice. "You choose 'em well, don't you?"

"Well, how'd you hire _your_ employees?"

"Normally," was the one-word reply from Shinomiya.

"See? You're boring like that," Hinako groused. "You should live a little."

"No thanks," Shinomiya replied, pulling himself up onto his feet at last. "Though, I'll admit that it's interesting how you all seem to mesh together despite being a bunch of randoms. It's interesting."

"You know what they say. Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet," Hinako quipped, righting herself before getting to her feet and heading off in the direction of the kitchen. Shinomiya followed after her, humming a quiet tune underneath his breath.


	6. Fire in the Kitchen

Chapter Six: Fire in the Kitchen

Two weeks down the line and Shinomiya had successfully made himself a member of the Kirinoya crew, though Natsu still didn't hesitate to send sniping remarks his way. He ignored some, entertained others and got annoyed at most. He'd been able to pick up the basics of kaiseki adeptly enough that he could be trusted to handle the prep, though Hinako refused to let him anywhere near the final dishes.

Now that it was Saturday morning, Shinomiya was experimenting with some Robuchon dishes, except… it wasn't exactly working out.

"Failed. _Again_," Shinomiya groaned, tossing his Robuchon-inspired chou farci into a bin before sinking to his feet, hands tightly clenching the plate to his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. "Fuck. I'm hopeless."

"Hey," Hinako said, her hand gently easing the plate out of Shinomiya's tight grasp. "You can do this. I know you can. I'm not going to lie and say that your dish is amazing so far, but… it's there? Kind of? It doesn't taste bad. It's pretty good."

"I'm _Shinomiya Kojirou_," he snapped, locks of hair swinging violently as he raised his head to regard Hinako. "I don't do 'pretty good'. Especially not for the likes of Joel fucking Robuchon. That man has more prestige in his pinkie than I do in my entire career. I can't serve him 'pretty good'. If it's any less than mindblowing… it'll be a failure. And just so you know, I'd much rather die than fail."

"You're being overdramatic," Hinako said, rolling her eyes as she rose to her feet. "Didn't you just churn out a whole load of specialties this year alone? This should be easy for you!"

"Yeah, but I wasn't _thinking_ about them," Shinomiya replied, also deciding to pick himself off the floor. "They just… happened. I got the idea, I developed it, and _boom_. Specialty."

"Then just do that," Hinako said, eyebrow raised.

"Well, Hinako, if I'm thinking about not thinking about it, I'm still thinking about it. So thanks, best advice ever," Shinomiya slowly stated, the sarcasm dripping from his voice as he approached the counter with all his failed dishes scattered on top. It filled him with frustration to see all these dishes. They should've brought him closer to a final dish, a final answer, but Shinomiya hadn't even made it to the first checkpoint yet. He was far from being done.

"No need to be an ass about it," Hinako countered. "I'm just saying. Come up with an idea, develop it and make it go 'boom'. There's millions of ingredients out there. There's a fresh recipe waiting out there for you."

"I know what I want to make, Hinako. I just don't know _how_ to make it," Shinomiya explained, thinking back to all his past specialty dishes. "I want a fusion between my specialty and his specialty."

"Then why aren't you doing that?"

"I am…?"

"All you've done is put two specialties on one plate. Look," Hinako said, grabbing one of Shinomiya's failed attempts before placing it in front of him.

On the plate was an exquisitely-prepared chou farci, accompanied by Robuchon's specialty: _pomme purée_, or 'mashed potatoes'. Shinomiya had garnished the _pomme purée_ with some parsley to improve the presentation of the dish, but his main problem with this dish was that he had struggled to put his own spin on the _pomme purée_. Everything he created just didn't feel _right_. If he'd been cooking for a diner, it would've been more than enough. After all, the texture was fine, the taste was fine. However, for a three-star restaurant trying to create a groundbreaking specialty? It just wasn't enough. The flavours weren't new. It didn't _feel_ like Shinomiya's cooking, not really. As much as he hated to admit it, any random chef off the street could've made this dish. This dish wasn't his, not yet. He'd figured that someone of his prestige would be able to create an acceptable rendition of Robuchon's specialty, but judging by how this was going… it was going to be much more difficult than he could've ever imagined.

"Putting two specialties on one plate isn't a fusion. It's two specialties on one plate," Hinako clarified, grabbing a fork and taking a mouthful of the _pomme purée_. She tested the flavour on her tongue for a few moments before continuing to speak. "Now, the potatoes aren't bad. The texture's fine, the taste is fine — but they're just that. Fine. You can't serve a bland recreation of Robuchon's dish to the man himself."

Hinako bit into Shinomiya's chou farci and chewed a little before continuing to give her critiques. "Now, this. It's already one of your well-established specialties. You're not showing Robuchon anything _new_ if you give him this. To give it to you straight, you're just giving him a charity shop version of his potatoes alongside your tired ass specialty. That's what this dish is."

Shinomiya couldn't help but wince. Even though he knew that Hinako was right, it frustrated him to hear those words out loud. Staring down at the dish, all he could think about was the hours of lost sleep, hours of gathering ingredients, hours of making notes on ingredient ratios. All of that effort, and for _what_? Failure. It didn't matter how many times Shinomiya experienced failure — it would _never_ cause his heart to hurt any less.

He was meant to be Shinomiya Kojirou. Chef of the Year. Michelin-starred chef. First seat of Totsuki's Elite Ten. Why the _hell_ couldn't he make a dish as simple as _pomme purée_? Was the lack of sleep getting to him, or what? He wanted nothing more than to scream into the open air, but he didn't have time to get down on himself. He had to keep moving forwards, at least while he had all of these valuable resources around him. He was surrounded by a sanctuary of fresh ingredients, wasn't he? Sure, there wasn't much red meat to choose from, but when it came to natural resources and seasonal products… it was fair game. Right now, his dish was nowhere near being enough for the likes of Joel Robuchon. He could change that though. He just had to change his approach, didn't he? He'd gotten himself out of situations like this before. He just needed to find _something_.

"Two specialties on one plate," Shinomiya repeated. "So… you're saying my idea's a 'what the fuck are you thinking' idea?"

"Nope. This is a chance for you to overcome one of your weaknesses," Hinako said, pressing a thumb to her cheek as she thought to herself. "Your presentation's always been really conventional. It's kind of boring."

"Conventional isn't a weakness," Shinomiya dryly countered. "It's a preference."

"No, it's a weakness," Hinako reiterated. "It's okay to like conventional presentation, but it's not okay when that's all you can do. Remember: the dish matters just as much as the actual food. I like the idea of using Chef Robuchon's specialty to inspire your next specialty, but your problem here? You only know how to present things in one way. You've got to take one ingredient and spin like five different interpretations on it. Braise it, bake it, whatever. Just _do something_. Get what I'm hinting at?"

It was true that Shinomiya struggled to think outside of the box in terms of presentation. When it came to applying French techniques to Japanese ingredients, Shinomiya could do it with ease. But then, the final product would always be packaged up neatly on the plate. Perhaps some sauce drizzled on top, a neat-looking garnish. But… he'd never really tried anything different.

In these two weeks alone, he'd seen that the presentation for kaiseki was incredibly varied. Not one dish looked like the other. They were all unique, all colourful, all boasting different garnishes and flavours. Not to mention, the creativity of using wooden capsules still had Shinomiya in awe.

"You're right," Shinomiya replied after a long pause. "It's not enough to put both specialties on the same plate. If I want to make this dish my own, they need to work together."

After some silence, he looked back up at Hinako, who had an encouraging smile on her face. He wanted to think rationally, focus, relax _— _he wanted to relax more than anything else _—_ but his mind refused to give him a break. Ideas were buzzing back and forth, bouncing off each other and giving birth to more and more doubts.

"Fuck. I have no idea what to do." Shinomiya let out a deep sigh. "I don't think a fusion will work. Or maybe I'm just not thinking about it deeply enough. Either way, if I want to impress Robuchon, I've got to use something I've learnt here. But, at the same time… fuck. I don't know. I don't fucking know. What if I… wait no, never mind. That's a horrible idea. What am I thinking? Ugh. I don't fucking _know_," he lamented, letting out a loud groan as he slammed both hands against his cheeks. "Fuck. _Fuck_."

"Go sit outside. You need to let your mind detox," Hinako announced. "Nature's the best catalyst for creativity! Slapping yourself isn't going to help the situation."

"Yeah. Alright."

Turning his back on the failed specialties, Shinomiya ventured outside and was greeted by the sound of the running stream. He paused, before walking towards the stream and hopping over some stones so that he could get to the other side. Looking at his surroundings, he could see that there was potential all around him. There was the extensive range of foliage just ahead of him, which homed pretty much every vegetable and plant he could think of. Sure, some of them weren't fully ripe, but they were still growing in preparation for the next season. Just behind him, there were fish drifting along the stream, splashing noises punctuating the silence every so often. It would've been easy to retrieve whichever fish he wanted. To his left, there was a rabbit snacking on some wildflowers, though it hopped away upon realising that Shinomiya was observing it. To his right, there was a flower patch which was bursting with colours and bees. There was even a beehive nearby. There was potential everywhere he looked. He just didn't know how to use it.

"I thought I sensed something irritating."

Natsu slid out from behind a tree, similar to their first meeting. Shinomiya simply rolled his eyes and moved to sit along the bank of the stream, running a hand through the water as if to beckon the fish in there to come to him. Of course, the movement of his hand would scare the fish off, but Shinomiya was sure that there were still some asshole fish in there just waiting to bite his fingers off. The fading bite marks on his hands were more than proof enough of that.

"I'm not in the mood," Shinomiya replied. "Go away."

"You're in my forest, asshole," Natsu retorted. "You're the one who should go—"

"Just shut up," Shinomiya interjected, his hand clenching under the water in frustration. "Unless you've got the magic answer to my fucking problem, just _shut up_."

When Natsu didn't reply, Shinomiya resumed running his hand through the stream, almost as if he were fishing for an answer to his problem. He was distracted from the rhythmic movement by light footsteps, which paused right next to him. Turning his head, he found Natsu was lowering herself down to sit beside him.

"You're the last person I want to talk to right now," Shinomiya dryly informed her.

"Well, too bad." She pointed at the stream before continuing to speak. "What do you see when you look at that?"

"Water…?"

"See? Closed-minded," Natsu scolded, eliciting an irritated click of the tongue from Shinomiya. "When you look at the stream, you should see beneath the surface. You'll never see the water run clearer anywhere else. You can see all the way down if you really focus. You've got glasses, don't you? Use them."

Shinomiya sighed, but he decided to follow her lead and stare down a little harder at the stream. Before, he'd only really focused on the constant flow of the water and the ripples which would form around the rocks as it flowed downwards, but now… he could see beneath the surface. His gaze latched onto a little trout which was wiggling past, trying to remain unnoticed. Before Shinomiya could even realise what he was doing, his hand reached down and towards the trout's gills, gently massaging until the trout was in a trance. Then, in one move, he pulled the trout out of the water, its grey skin glimmering in the sunlight. It wasn't desperately flopping about in his hand like past attempts. This time… the trout was completely still.

"I can see the fish," Shinomiya said.

"About time," Natsu said, plucking the trout out of Shinomiya's hand before releasing it back into the stream. It remained there in a daze for a few moments, but it soon regained its faculties and continued to swim through the stream.

"You've got the vision of a chef," Natsu continued, hopping back up to her feet once again. "So, I don't see why you're struggling. Then again, I've never tasted your food. For all I know, you might be a fake chef who can't cook for shit."

Shinomiya let out a scoff as he rose to his feet. "You wish."

Silence hung in the air between them as they ventured deeper into the forest, the sky now obscured by branches and extensive green foliage which helped to protect them from the sunlight. As Shinomiya walked by, he noticed the various patches where all sorts of vegetables and fruits were growing. This forest was _huge_, though it would be impossible to class its exact size at first glance. The fact that Natsu was able to maintain it all by herself was hard to believe, but seeing how Natsu's eyes became fond whenever she looked around at the budding plants… it made sense. As cheesy as it sounded… she was truly one with nature.

"So, asshole," Natsu said, pausing to lean against an apple tree. "There's something that's been bugging me. Why exactly did you come here? You're still painfully bad at forest maintenance—"

"I watered the eggplants that you forgot about, so I can't be that bad."

"Fuck off." She folded her arms together. "I was going to water those."

"Sure," Shinomiya said, rolling his eyes. "To answer your question, I heard that Hinako was planning to close her restaurant down. I was busy back in France, but… no matter how busy it gets, SHINO's isn't going anywhere. Hinako might be. So, that's why I'm here."

A dark grimace appeared on Natsu's face.

"Ugh," she practically spat, disdain burning in her eyes. "You Totsuki assholes, constantly thinking you need to swoop in…"

"What's that meant to mean?" Shinomiya narrowed his eyes at her.

"It's Totsuki that caused this in the first fucking place," she coldly replied, casting an accusatory glance in Shinomiya's direction. Shinomiya had already been irritated by her presence before, but now he was burning with animosity. It was one thing to blame Totsuki, but it was a whole other thing to blame him. She might've not outwardly said "it's your fault", but Shinomiya knew that she was thinking it.

"She wouldn't hate the kitchen if not for the fact that you all constantly rub your achievements in her face while refusing to acknowledge her," Natsu continued, raising one hand so that she could point it at Shinomiya's face. "I'll never forgive you. I'll never forgive Totsuki. I'll never forgive _any_ of you. You're _all_ responsible for making her hate the kitchen. Every last one of you."

Shinomiya slapped the finger out of his face before wiping his hand off on a nearby tree. The gesture was enough to elicit an irritated growl from Natsu. He might've relished in the pleasure of irritating her, but he had a point to make first.

"If you think Hinako 'hates' the kitchen," Shinomiya began, eyes boring into Natsu's irritated ones, "you clearly don't know her."

Natsu's fists tightened by her sides. "What'd you just say, asshole?"

"You heard me. You don't know her," Shinomiya firmly reiterated. "The only thing we have in common is our love for cuisine, so… don't tell me she hates the kitchen. Say whatever the fuck you want, but don't lie to my face. She doesn't hate the kitchen. She doesn't hate Totsuki."

"Yes, she does!"

"If there's something she hates," Shinomiya replied, "it's feeling like she's not good enough. That's something pretty much every single chef goes through, though an ignorant nature freak like you wouldn't understand that."

She flicked her middle finger up at him.

"Mature," Shinomiya sarcastically commented.

"By your definition," Natsu said, lowering her finger, "that would mean that you also feel like you're not good enough sometimes."

Shinomiya was a little reluctant to admit that he often battled with his pride as a chef — especially to someone like Natsu — but he eventually settled for a half nod of the head. She could interpret that however she wanted.

"God, are you serious? That's absolute bullshit," Natsu said, raising her eyebrows as a scoff left her lips. "You literally got Chef of the Year. The whole world recognises you for your achievements as a chef. The media practically sucks your dick on a daily basis. What the hell would you know about not feeling 'good enough'?"

Shinomiya felt a thin smile pass across his lips. This wasn't the first time he'd been told that he 'wouldn't be able to understand' — he'd heard the exact same thing from Yukihira. But, he couldn't help but wonder why people seemed to think his life was perfect. He was incapable of maintaining positive relationships, incapable of keeping a handle on his own mental health, incapable of sleeping. He'd had multiple breakdowns over not being able to create the 'ultimate specialty'. But, just because he was rich and famous, it suddenly meant that his life was perfect?

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Shinomiya coolly replied.

"Because you know I'm right." Natsu scoffed. "Anyway, moving on. Look around you. What do you see?"

"A dunce," Shinomiya replied, eyes trained on Natsu's.

"…I'm going to throw you in that fucking stream if you give me another answer like that," Natsu coldly threatened. "I'm doing this to help you, asshole. Take it seriously or don't take it at all."

"Why would you even want to help me? You've been nothing but vengeful since I set foot in this place," Shinomiya pointed out, leaning against the moderately-sized tree trunk and looking up into the branches. If he reached up far enough, he'd be able to grab one of the apples. They didn't appear to be at peak ripeness, though they still looked to be edible.

"It's either I help you or you throw your lanky self all over my apple trees while sulking, so it's an easy choice," Natsu replied, her words as blunt as usual. "So, I'll ask you again. What do you see?"

Shinomiya sighed and took a deep breath, trying to look 'beyond the surface' as Natsu had instructed. It wasn't enough to choose the typical things like 'apples' or 'leaves'. He needed to dig deeper, much deeper. What made up a typical tree? There were the roots. Sometimes truffles. The bark covering a tree trunk. Branches which would bear fruit and flora.

None of that was out of the ordinary though, was it?

"I really don't know," Shinomiya admitted, moving to stand in the centre of the forest. "I'm guessing I'm not allowed to state the obvious. I mean, I see apples. Branches. Tree trunks."

Natsu rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's what you see with your eyes. But what potential do you see? What would you _do_ with them? Come on. Don't tell me you're an idiot as well as an annoying asshole. What opportunities do you see in this forest?"

It was then that Natsu's meaning clicked in his head.

It wasn't enough to look at them as being 'things'. Everything he looked at? They were ingredients, and he had to consider them as such. He had to consider their nutritional qualities. He had to consider their flavours. He had to consider their seasonality. Just because they were growing didn't mean that their flavour would be at peak quality, after all.

There were birch trees which he could use for edible bark. He could also extract the birch sap and boil it in order to get syrup. There was burdock root growing on the ground, so that could easily play a role in his dish. There were berries in bushes that he could easily utilise. The whole forest was coming alive with flavours and colours and possibilities. It wasn't just branches and tree trunks — there were different colours, different sizes, different types.

"_Nouilles de forêt_," Shinomiya murmured, the image of a dish finally clicking into his mind. "I use the inner bark of a birch tree. Slice it into thin, noodle-like strips. I substitute birch syrup for oil and fry the bark in that. Meanwhile, I prepare a broth for the noodles to go in. I take kombu, fish from the stream and use it to create a dashi. Once I've got my dashi, I put it in a pot with a small amount of water. Throw in some burdock root shavings and diced shiitake mushrooms to infuse some forest flavours. Once I've got my broth, I pour it out into a serving bowl and put my noodles in. I use birch leaves as a garnish. And… yeah. I guess that's what I would do."

Natsu nodded her head. "Alright, so you're not a shill. You're a glorified recipe book. Eh… I guess that's an improvement. It's still too typical though. I mean, come on. You're a world-famous chef, not a high school cooking teacher. 'Forest noodles'? That's the best you can come up with? That's so _boring_."

Shinomiya had initially been surprised at the fact that Natsu had seemed to understand his French, but his surprise was quickly dampened by the snarky insult. "For someone that hasn't got any sort of cooking qualification to speak of, you've sure got a big mouth," Shinomiya dryly commented. "Sure would be nice if you could learn how to shut it."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Not used to hearing a voice that isn't your own?"

The two of them proceeded to stare each other down, an irritated scowl forming on Shinomiya's lips while Natsu had a smug, self-satisfied expression on her face. It wasn't until Hinako intervened by trilling out, "I'm surprised you two haven't killed each other yet!" that the two of them broke eye contact and turned to face Hinako, who seemed just as cheerful as ever.

"You got inspiration yet, Shinomiya?"

"Not particularly," Shinomiya groused. "Your _pseudo-chef_—"

"Fuck off," Natsu interjected.

"—thinks I'm a 'glorified recipe book' because of forest noodles."

"Jeez." Hinako shook her head while chuckling to herself. "Well, Nacchan. It's only fair if you tell him what you'd make, right?"

"Sweet and sour rhubarb foam," Natsu calmly replied, though she still had an edge in her eyes. "Rhubarbs are known for being sour, but when combined with sugar, their true sweetness is brought out. Making it into a foam makes it appealing presentation-wise and brings out its true seasonal flavours. I'd use a mint leaf as a garnish, along with some berries."

Shinomiya blinked at Natsu for a full minute before opening his mouth to utter one single question. "So, I tell you I'm going to make forest noodles, and your answer is… rhubarb?"

"It's my specialty. So, yeah. It is my answer."

"It doesn't matter how you present it. It's still nothing but a stupid little rhubarb on a plate," Shinomiya slowly stated, knowing that his way of speaking would piss Natsu off if the insult didn't.

"Fuck off," Natsu snapped. "It's still better than forest noodles."

Shinomiya raised an eyebrow. "I don't know who told you that, but they lied."

"You'll see."

On that note, she pulled a bobble from her wrist and brushed her hair back with her hands, gathering it into a lazy bun before lowering her hands once more. The look in her eyes had changed. She'd even gone so far as to straighten her posture.

Shinomiya wrinkled his nose. "Why are you acting so intense all of a sudd—"

"Let's have a cookoff," Natsu proposed, jerking a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "We'll see whether you're a shill in the kitchen or not. I bet you are."

"No. It's a waste of my time," Shinomiya countered. "Hinako, I—"

"Go on!" Hinako clapped her hands together excitedly. "If you think your dish is better than Nacchan's, prove it. I'll judge!"

Shinomiya let out a low sigh. "Hinako."

"Well, I wouldn't be forcing you to do it if you hadn't called her rhubarb foam 'stupid'."

Natsu glanced over in Hinako's direction, and while it was only for a few seconds, Shinomiya noticed her eyes softening. However, before Shinomiya could dwell on the meaning of her expression, Natsu turned her attention back to him, smirk blazing across her lips as she folded her arms together.

"Yeah, asshole. You shouldn't have called my rhubarb foam stupid. I mean, come on. Who's going to eat your basic ass forest noodles when you can literally find yeast growing in the forest, make dough from it and you know, make _actual noodles_? Ugh. Totsuki chefs are just extra for no reason. It's annoying."

"Fine." Shinomiya stepped away from the tree he'd been leaning on to advance in the direction of a birch tree, hands poised to strip it of its bark. "You're on, nature freak."

"For the last time, it's _Natsu_."

"I'll start calling you Natsu when you stop calling me 'asshole'."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her tone clearly sarcastic. "That's not your name?"

Hinako sighed. "Can't you two respect each other as fellow competitors?"

"No way," was the simultaneous response from both Natsu and Shinomiya.

"Though," Shinomiya added, "when I win — not if, _when _— you're going to have to respect me."

"Arrogant fucking _prick_," Natsu growled. "I'll destroy you. Just you wait."

* * *

One hour later and the complete dishes were sitting in front of Hinako. Shinomiya's dish was presented in a delicate golden bowl, his 'forest noodles' submerged within a light broth. They hadn't quite turned out the way Shinomiya had originally envisioned — it was far from being a dish he would serve in his own restaurant — but prototype dishes were usually worse than the final product.

Natsu's dish, on the other hand, was clearly an original dish which had been refined and polished to the point it could've been considered her specialty. The dessert was beautiful to look at. It was presented on an earthy green plate, swirls of rhubarb foam accented by a sprinkling of red berries and a mint leaf as a garnish. It was clear she'd considered everything from the amount of berries used to the presentation of the final product.

"Alright, asshole. _This_ is how you cook," Natsu said, arms folded as she regarded Shinomiya with a smug look on her face. "_Forest noodles_. Seriously."

Shinomiya's response was to stick his middle finger up in her direction. While Natsu had opened her mouth to complain about the action, she paused when Hinako held up a hand. She reluctantly shut her mouth, much to Shinomiya's amusement.

"Mmm," Hinako murmured, a bright smile on her face as she ate the rhubarb foam. "Yeah, that's amazing. It's really grown from what it used to be. Now, it's really easy on the taste buds. The berries help to give those juicy bursts of flavour too. I love it."

Natsu smirked in Shinomiya's direction, but surprisingly enough, she didn't have any derisive comments to offer him.

Hinako promptly moved onto Shinomiya's dish, which was still steaming. Now that he thought about it, making a warm noodle broth in _June_ might not have been the best choice and inside he was kicking himself for doing that — just how much had he lost his touch? But, much to his surprise, Hinako actually seemed to be enjoying it.

"It's really good! The broth is so addictive," Hinako enthused, slurping loudly as she closed her eyes. She was most likely trying to pinpoint what flavours she was tasting. While she didn't say anything more out loud, her facial expression was more than indication enough that he'd won this particular cooking challenge. Still, Shinomiya wasn't going to celebrate until Hinako said those words with her own lips. One look to his right told him that Natsu was convinced that she'd won — the smug expression on her face was confirmation enough.

God, Shinomiya couldn't wait to see her reaction.

"I won, right? I won," Natsu bragged, dismissing Shinomiya with a sweep of the hand. "See? I can stand on equal footing with you Totsuki chefs."

"Actually, Nacchan… I love you and all," Hinako said, bringing Natsu's bragging to a halt, "but Shinomiya's dish is miles ahead of yours."

Natsu let out a loud "_Huh_?" at the same time Shinomiya let out a triumphant "Hah!"

"You're kidding," Natsu said, her facial expression deadpan. "You're kidding. He literally just came up with that on the spot. I've spent months making that dish what it is. Months. How… no. Let me taste it."

"Go ahead," Shinomiya replied, grabbing Hinako's half-finished bowl and planting it in Natsu's hands. "You can witness why I'm so great."

He didn't actually feel like he was that great — for God's sake, he still hadn't figured out what his next specialty was going to be — but he wasn't going to miss out on an opportunity to rub his win into Natsu's face.

"Go fuck yourself," Natsu snapped, though she didn't hesitate to retrieve the 'noodles' with her chopsticks, swirling them around in the broth before putting them in her mouth. Shock was the first emotion to appear on her face, though it was swiftly replaced with bliss. She took a second mouthful, then a third.

"Enjoying yourself there?" Shinomiya commented, a huge smirk on his face.

"No. It tastes like trash," Natsu stubbornly replied, though her eyes were still fixated on the bowl. "I don't know what you see in this dish, Inui-senpai…"

"Oh, is that so? I'll be having that back then," Shinomiya said, snatching the bowl out of her hands. An offended look appeared in Natsu's eyes as she reached out for the bowl again, though she withdrew her hands after a brief pause.

"Uh… at least let me finish it," Natsu insisted. "I don't like wasting food."

Hinako began to chuckle. "You _can_ say you like it, you know."

"I don't," she responded, completely deadpan. Hinako raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

"…Fine," Natsu said after a brief pause. "It's kinda good. _Kinda_."

Shinomiya was content to hand the bowl back to Natsu, who proceeded to scarf down the remains. While she did that, Shinomiya turned his attention to Hinako, whose smile was reaching from cheek to cheek.

"Finally! You two are getting along," she enthused.

Shinomiya couldn't help the grimace that formed on his lips. "Hardly."

"You can try some rhubarb foam if you want," Hinako offered, holding up her half-finished plate. "It's good."

"Might as well."

Shinomiya took the plate into one hand, wielding a spoon in the other. He was familiar with the use of culinary foam, but he'd never really used that particular technique in his restaurant. Mainly because he didn't really see a place for foam in his dishes. But, maybe he just wasn't _seeing_ properly. Just like with the trees… he'd been focusing too much on the outer parts rather than the inner possibilities.

When he ladled the first mouthful into his mouth, he was pleasantly surprised by how _light_ it felt on his tongue. It was light, sweet, but the addition of berries allowed for a juicy burst of flavour. It was a simple dish, but it fit the season perfectly. If he'd been blindfolded and asked to identify what season this dish belonged to, he would've said summer without hesitation.

"To be completely honest, if I was judging on a kaiseki basis," Hinako pondered out loud, "Nacchan would've won."

Natsu said something, but given that her mouth was stuffed with noodles, neither Shinomiya nor Hinako could understand her. So, Hinako simply continued to speak.

"I love the broth, but it's not really _summer_," Hinako said. "So, on a quality basis, I choose forest noodles. But on a kaiseki basis, I choose rhubarb foam. So… you're both winners!" She clapped her hands together excitedly, and while Shinomiya might've rolled his eyes, he couldn't help but smile.

"Well, if I didn't crush him," Natsu began, placing the empty bowl down on the nearest counter, "then I basically lost. Hmph… I guess I need a new specialty."

"Oh, Shinomiya! You need a new specialty too, right?" Hinako grinned. "You two can help each other. I'll leave you to it."

Before Shinomiya could protest the decision, Hinako slipped out of the room. He made a move to go after her and insist that she stop trying to convince him to get along with Natsu, but he paused when he heard a "Wait" from Natsu. He turned his head to face her, raising his eyebrow as if to say "go ahead".

"That broth… show me how you made it," Natsu demanded.

Shinomiya pondered to himself for a moment. Obviously, he didn't want to be in a room with Natsu for longer than was necessary, but surely there was something he could gain from this, right? He had to make the most of his time here.

"Only if you show me how to create the foam," Shinomiya replied after a pause.

Natsu nodded. "You've got yourself a deal, Slenderman."

* * *

It was one week later when Shinomiya's specialty dish finally started to come together. While being around Natsu had been somewhat tedious at first, Shinomiya soon grew accustomed to her personality. While he wouldn't have guessed it from first glance, Natsu actually knew quite a lot about food. Her knowledge of cooking techniques was somewhat average, but her understanding of ingredients and their properties was otherworldly.

Shinomiya carefully funnelled his potato foam onto the plate under the scrutiny of Natsu. He'd spent a while working on getting his ratios just right, and now, it was time to see how it would look (and taste) when presented.

"Stop," Natsu ordered.

Shinomiya did as ordered and set the funnel to one side before grabbing a spoon and tossing it in Natsu's direction. Both of them secured their mouthfuls at the same time, a thoughtful look appearing on Natsu's face while Shinomiya tapped his foot against the ground, giving himself time to let the taste sink in.

"Right now, this foam reminds me of you," she admitted, smacking her lips together before setting the spoon back down on the counter. "Underwhelming."

"Me? Underwhelming? So, are we just going to pretend that I'm not Chef of the Year?"

"Yes, yes we are," Natsu replied. After a moment of thought, she opened her mouth again. "On a serious note, this foam… it's missing something. I can't think… wait, wait, wait. Have you ever heard of uni?"

Shinomiya raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Just answer the question, asshole."

"Oh, I almost forgot you hated me," Shinomiya said, snickering when a dark glare appeared on her face. "Yes, I've heard of uni. Never used it myself, but I'm aware of it. What's the relevance?"

"Your foam is a bit plain right now. Remember how my foam had berries? Yours needs a bit _more_. Something to do with the sea. The foam's already light, so if you combine it with a 'sea' feel, you'll be communicating the feeling of summer. Uni's the perfect ingredient to do that. It's light, creamy _and_ the best part? It's an orangey-yellow shade, so it'll add a summery burst of colour to your dish."

"Hmm… alright," Shinomiya said, nodding his head. "Sounds good. I'll head over to the nearest market in the morning."

"Alright. So… we done here?"

"For today, yeah."

Shinomiya glanced down at his watch, the glowing numbers staring back up at him. **11:55PM**. Hinako had hurried out of work earlier to attend some sort of family event in Hokkaido, and considering it was a Friday evening, the others were long gone. It was just him and Natsu. They'd been in this kitchen for the past few hours, working on their respective dishes.

"Hey, you."

Natsu grimaced. "_You_? I have a name, asshole—"

"I've been wondering about something," Shinomiya interrupted, unfazed by the look on Natsu's face. "Where'd you get your culinary knowledge from? Judging by how much you trash-talk Totsuki, I'm going to assume you didn't go to culinary school."

"Course not," Natsu replied. "A school can't teach you how to understand ingredients. That's something you learn by, you know, going outside and actually getting to know the ingredients you're going to cook with."

"_Getting to know_? Uh… you do realise they're not sentient, right?"

"Well, if you're going to make fun of me, you can fuck off," Natsu said. "I'm just saying it the way I see it. You learn how to cook by _doing_. Like… it's ridiculous that people can automatically be 'better' than me just because they paid an arm and a leg to attend culinary school."

Shinomiya raised an eyebrow. "There's a thing called a scholarship?"

"There's also a thing called bills. There's a thing called rent. There's a thing called living expenses. I mean… correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure a scholarship isn't going to cover all of that," Natsu dryly replied. "I'm so sick of assholes like you thinking that everything is so simple. It's not. And besides, even if a scholarship _did_ cover everything I've just mentioned, I still wouldn't go to culinary school. That shouldn't be the benchmark of whether a chef is great or not."

"So, now you're a—"

"No, I don't consider myself a chef," Natsu interrupted. "I didn't even start cooking properly until I started working for Inui-senpai. I haven't put in the work that scrubs like you have, so I won't take that title for myself. Even so… that doesn't make my cooking less legitimate. Cooking is still cooking. Cuisine is still cuisine. It's not like I'm untrained. Sure, I might be a 'nature freak' rather than a sous chef…"

At that moment, Shinomiya couldn't help but feel slightly guilty about the 'nature freak' nickname. Judging by how she'd spat the words out, it was clear they'd lingered in her mind. The guilt had only lasted a mere second — after all, he hadn't exactly been lying — but it had been there nevertheless.

"…but that doesn't make my cooking bad," Natsu said. "Inui-senpai has taught me the 'highlights' of her cooking knowledge. She taught me how to apply my knowledge about food to the kitchen. My understanding of flavours. She told me when things tasted bad and when things tasted good. It… it made me enjoy cooking. It made me want to make my own dishes and make her smile the same way she made me smile."

Shinomiya was a little taken aback by how quickly Natsu's demeanour had changed. Now, she had a somewhat forlorn expression on her face as she leaned her arms against the counter, staring intently at the wooden panelled walls straight ahead of her.

"I'm not a chef. I don't want to be a chef. But, I want to be able to enjoy food without being looked down on by Totsuki assholes like you."

Shinomiya paused, before replying, "Honestly, if you stopped turning every single word into an attack on me, I might actually be able to muster up some sympathy for you."

"I don't want your sympathy."

The forlorn expression had been replaced with one which was haughty, serious.

"Well, I wasn't going to offer it," Shinomiya replied.

"Good."

Before the silence between them could stretch out for too long, Shinomiya began to clean up the kitchen, throwing away the remainder of the potato foam as he went. Sure, he could've snacked on it on the way to the hotel to curb his hunger, but it still wasn't as appetising as he would've liked. Natsu followed suit and began to wash the dishes that they'd been using, humming to herself as she did so.

It was when Shinomiya was halfway out the door that Natsu said a quiet but firm "wait". Shinomiya turned back to face her, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Why do you cook?"

At her question, Shinomiya's mind flickered to his mother, his spirit briefly clouded with guilt at the fact he still hadn't paid her a visit in Fukuoka. He was aware that his facial expression had changed — mainly because Natsu was gawking at him with a pretty surprised expression on her face — so he blinked hard to clear the thoughts from his head before wrinkling his nose at her.

"Why would I tell _you_?"

"Fine, fuck off then," Natsu said, rolling her eyes at him. "I don't care."

Shinomiya shrugged his shoulders and turned to walk out of the kitchen again, but was again interrupted by another "wait, wait, wait" from Natsu. He sighed and turned around, more slowly this time, meeting her with an exasperated "what? I'm tired".

"Your purpose," Natsu reiterated. "What is it?"

"Sleep," Shinomiya bluntly replied, eyes darting down to his watch before looking back up at Natsu. "Good night—"

"No, I'm not letting you go until you answer me," Natsu insisted. "I need to understand. I need to. So tell me."

"That's a really convincing pitch. I'm totally going to tell you if you demand me to," Shinomiya sarcastically replied. "Seriously. You need to learn how to speak to people. On that note, I'm leaving—"

"No!"

Shinomiya paused, a little taken aback by the desperation in her voice.

"Uh… this isn't the part where you confess to me, right?"

Natsu's facial expression became unimpressed. "You're really not that attractive. Calm yourself."

"Then what is it?"

"Well, to be completely honest… I haven't talked to anyone about this yet, but I want to have more of a role in the kitchen. Like a sous chef," Natsu admitted. "I want to be able to stand next to Inui-senpai. I want to do more. But… I don't really have that technical skill yet. Or the drive. I mean, like I said. I don't think about anything when I cook. I just… cook."

"So, why exactly am I meant to care?"

"I need to understand what drives you to cook so I can find my own drive."

Shinomiya raised an eyebrow. "You're acting like Hinako doesn't exist. Ask her."

"I already know, smartass. She cooks because she loves nature and its beauty and wants to share it with everyone in the world. But I'm nothing like that. I love nature and all, but I don't want to share it with other people. People suck in general, so why would I do that?" Natsu wrinkled her nose. "As much as it disgusts me, you and I are pretty similar—"

"Nope," Shinomiya interjected.

"Just shut the fuck up and listen," Natsu snapped. "What I'm trying to say is that if I hear your reason for cooking, it might make more sense to me. It's just a theory, but… I need a reason if I'm going to stand next to Inui-senpai. That's what I want. I want to stand next to her."

"To be completely honest, I don't see you standing next to her," Shinomiya bluntly replied. "You're not a sous chef. Nor do you have what it takes. You're just a critic without ambition. You're resistant to change. You talk about being the best and 'understanding ingredients' but can't communicate that through your cooking. Drive alone doesn't equal talent. It's the challenges, failures and successes that make a sous chef. Or any chef."

"Well, yeah. I'm not the best yet, but—"

"There is no _but_," Shinomiya coldly interjected. "Ever since I got here, all you've done is bitch about culinary students getting 'everything'. There are _so_ many chefs who have made it in this world without going to culinary school. You've spent the past few years working with Hinako, one of the best chefs I've ever had the pleasure of working alongside, but rhubarb foam and subpar knife skills are all you have to show for it? Really? Maybe if you didn't spend so much time making excuses, you might be capable of standing alongside Hinako rather than behind her."

Natsu's eyes flashed in indignation. "Oh, wow. You really are a dick, huh?"

"If being honest makes me a dick, then yeah. I guess I am," Shinomiya replied, turning on his heel. "Anyway, I've fulfilled my end of the deal. I taught you how to make broth, you taught me how to make foam. So, I'm going back to my hotel room. Night."

On that note, Shinomiya left the kitchen, this time with no dissent from Natsu.

The following day, Shinomiya woke up to a multitude of texts from Hinako.

* * *

**SHINOMIYA**

**-Hinako [Received 09:22]**

**what did you say to Nacchan last night? she wont stop texting me about how much of a dickhead you are but she wont tell me what you said so please fill in the gaps**

**-Hinako [Received 09:23]**

**wake UP already**

**-Hinako [Received 09:31]**

**SHINOMIYAAAAA**

**-Hinako [Received 09:38]**

**im posting your double chin on twitter if you dont answer me by 10am**

**-Hinako [Received 09:57]**

* * *

Shinomiya's eyes darted over to the time in the upper right-hand corner of his phone. **10:21.** He might've gone on Twitter to see if Hinako was telling the truth, but he was still sticking to his vow to stay away from social media, so all he could do was sigh before reading the last text that Hinako had sent him. It didn't matter if the world saw his double chin. Knowing how much the media worshipped him, it would probably just gain him even _more_ positive attention.

* * *

**what happened please im dying to know**

**-Hinako [Received 10:07]**

* * *

**I just told her the truth about herself.**

**-Shinomiya [Sent 10:22]**

**If she can't handle the truth, that's her problem.**

**-Shinomiya [Sent 10:23]**

* * *

**jfc I go to hokkaido for ONE WEEKEND and you guys are already fkighting**

**-Hinako [Received 10:24]**

**…just please go and sort it out. you guys have been getting along really well this week, don't ruin it :(**

**-Hinako [Received 10:25]**

**…pleeeeeaaasseeeeeee**

**-Hinako [Received 10:26]**

**PLEEEEAAAAASSSSEEEEE**

**-Hinako [Received 10:26]**

**don't make me come all the way back down to osaka just to drag you over to kirinoya. I'll make you pay my plane fare.**

**-Hinako [Received 10:27]**

* * *

**Fuck's sake**

**-Shinomiya [Sent 10:27]**

**Fine. I'll sort it out tomorrow.**

**-Shinomiya [Sent 10:30]**


	7. Matchmaker in the Process

Chapter Seven: Matchmaker in the Process

When Shinomiya walked into Kirinoya on Sunday morning, his nostrils were flooded with a deliciously fragrant scent. He was briefly reminded of Hinako's cooking, but he knew that this wasn't Hinako. Not just because she was still in Hokkaido, but because the very _feel_ of the food was different. Similar, but different.

The scent directed him towards the kitchen, where he was met with the sight of Natsu carefully ladling soup into an ornate dish. She briefly looked up and offered Shinomiya a nod before looking back down at the food she was handling.

"Want some? It's pea soup."

Shinomiya let out a grunt in response.

"Alright. I'll be done in two minutes."

True to her words, the dish appeared in front of Shinomiya once he'd sat down and made himself comfortable. The smell was certainly appetising to Shinomiya's stomach, given that he hadn't eaten this morning. The presentation was also appealing to the eye. The dish had been garnished with shiso, one of the many types of flowers growing in the forest.

When Shinomiya took in his first mouthful of soup, he felt as if the flavours were reaching within him, pulling out an inner peace that he hadn't even realised the existence of. The flaws of the dish also hit him — namely the sudden inclusion of _mushrooms _— but he figured that now wasn't the time to bring up everything he thought was wrong with Natsu's dish. He'd focus on the positives instead. The consistency was great and there were no lumps. He could taste the freshness of the ingredients. It was light on the tongue, not too heavy. And, most importantly, even if the ratios weren't necessarily right… the ingredient choices (barring the mushrooms) all seemed to harmonise well together.

"I thought about what you said Friday night," Natsu said after a brief pause. "I was pretty pissed at first, not gonna lie."

"I know. Hinako told me."

"And I assume you don't plan on apologising."

Shinomiya nodded his head.

"Alright. I'm glad we're covered on that front," Natsu said. "Now… what you said to me… there is some truth there. I'm not going to say that it didn't hurt, but… it's true. I lack ambition. I hate change. My cooking doesn't match my imagination. I also realised one thing. You're a hypocrite."

Shinomiya shot her a sour glare. "Hypocrite?"

"Believe it or not, you're not Jesus reincarnate," Natsu sarcastically replied. "You criticised me for not having your knife skills. In a French kitchen, you need skills like that. In a kaiseki kitchen? You're way too fast. So fast that you'd probably get in Inui-senpai's way. That doesn't make you a bad chef though. It just means you're suited to a different cooking environment. So, you can't judge me based on your French standards."

"It's not 'French' standards. It's basic expectations."

"Then, following your criteria, it should be 'basic expectations' that you know how to make a foam," Natsu argued. "_Especially_ if you attended Totsuki. You criticised me for 'only' knowing how to make a foam, but that's something you couldn't do until this week. You should know how to spin dozens of interpretations on one ingredient, but you don't. You ridiculed me for doing something new with rhubarb, but at the same time, you can't do anything _other_ than what's conventional. So, that makes _you_ resistant to change. That makes _you_ someone who lacks ambition. Your dishes are always technically perfect, but they just lack inspiration. Let's take 'forest noodles'. Technically perfect, but… that's it. That's _it_. For someone considered to be 'Chef of the Year', you can do much better.

Shinomiya's immediate instinct was to refute everything that had come out of her mouth, but he stopped himself before he could begin to formulate the words. It was clear that Natsu had thought long and hard about this — after all, she'd gotten through this entire conversation without dropping any F-bombs.

"And yeah, I bitch about culinary students," Natsu continued, now beginning to pace back and forth in front of the table. "But it's pretty hard to contain my hatred of them when they're the ones who look down on me for not being a Totsuki graduate. At reunions, those Totsuki assholes will say to Inui-senpai, 'why don't you hire someone more qualified?' and they look at her restaurant as _subpar_ just because we aren't all a bunch of culinary school snobs. It's true that her experience means that I can't compare to her. But that doesn't mean I have to stand behind her. I still care about Kirinoya, damnit. I think of this place as my _home_. I think it's the best place in the world. There is _nobody_ who is cooking the way Inui-senpai is right now. I mean, how many restaurants can say that they produce everything they cook? Exactly. We've barely had any media attention. You, on the other hand? It's like the media revolves around you. You could put a fucking leaf on a plate and the media would _eat it up_," she yelled, pausing in her tracks as she focused her gaze directly on Shinomiya's. "They'll keep throwing stars at you like they're _nothing_. Absolutely fucking _nothing_!"

Shinomiya flinched when Natsu slammed her hands against the table, breathing heavily as her eyes remained trained on his. He got the feeling that if he were to move even an inch, she would pounce on him. Sure, she wasn't exactly known for being able to control her temper, but he'd never seen her look this frustrated ever since arriving here. Never.

"You're both as talented as each other, but you know why you've got more success than her? Michelin's biased towards French restaurants. You own a French restaurant in the heart of France. Your entire staff is made up of former culinary students. There's also the fact that the cooking industry seems to forget that female chefs exist, but that's a whole different story. Either way, it's not _really_ about skill. It's about _culinary fucking school_," she said, clapping her hands emphatically. "If you were too broke to go in the beginning then _fuck you_, you'll never get to have success. And if you do? You'll get looked down on by those culinary students for the rest of your career. Like… fuck. Inui-senpai went, but they _still_ snub her. Just because the rest of us are regular people who have a genuine love for kaiseki. You see why I hate them so much now?"

Shinomiya had nothing to say in response.

"Restaurants full of culinary school graduates _do_ get the spotlight more than those that _aren't_ full of them," Natsu said once a reasonable length of time had passed. "You can't speak for those who don't because you _are_ the spotlight. You don't understand what it feels like to be in our shoes and you will _never_ understand."

Shinomiya could feel his eyebrow beginning to twitch. "I never—"

"Let me finish," Natsu interrupted, holding her hand up. "You're flawed, just like anyone else. You lack the same qualities I lack. But, despite that, you're still a good chef. So, assuming that I'm able to fine-tune my cooking techniques, I could become a chef who's good enough to stand at Inui-senpai's side. Right?"

Shinomiya paused. Despite his lingering irritation, he found himself considering Natsu's words. Part of him was wondering where the change of heart had come from — he honestly couldn't recall her saying so many words that _weren't insults _— but the other part was considering his own career as a chef. And, to some extent, his previous fling with Yukihira. In each and every confrontation he had with people, the common denominator was usually the fact that he couldn't 'understand'. He'd always relied on logic to help him solve his problems, but now, he was starting to see that logic alone couldn't help him understand people or their situations. He needed to dig deeper, all the way down to his feelings. He needed to consider the past. For example, if he'd considered his feelings with Yukihira rather than what the media would think, maybe things would've turned out differently. If he'd considered Jacques' feelings a bit more in the kitchen rather than expecting him to be an emotionless robot, maybe there would be a bit more trust in their working relationship. If he'd just factored in human emotion alongside _logic_, everything would be different. Everything.

After all, if everything was logical in life… Shinomiya wouldn't have turned out to be one of Totsuki's greatest graduates. He would've been stuck in his small town doing small-town things and growing up to do a small-town job. That would've been the logical outcome. But logic didn't exist to be adhered to.

Logic was meant to be broken.

"I can't answer that question," Shinomiya admitted after a long pause. "I still don't consider myself 'good', regardless of what you think you know about me. I've got a lot of improvements to make as a chef, but if I had to name one thing that it takes to become a good chef, it's time. Lots and lots of time. I didn't have money as a kid, but I had time. That time got me a Totsuki scholarship. And now, I'm here. If it had been the inverse, I'd probably fit your view of a culinary school student. Holding a diploma I don't deserve. Just… keep cooking. Keep creating. Keep getting people to taste your food; keep trying to surpass yourself. You'll find your purpose as you go."

"That was surprisingly civil," Natsu commented. "I was expecting you to yell 'you don't know me, you fucking nature freak'."

"Well, I _am_ capable of being civil when I'm not being referred to as the 'Totsuki asshole' every two seconds," Shinomiya pointedly replied.

"Touché."

After a brief silence passed between them, Natsu diverted her attention towards her untouched bowl of soup. Her gaze then diverted to Shinomiya's, which was half-eaten.

"So, this soup," she prompted, tapping her finger against Shinomiya's bowl of soup. "What do you think? Is it something you'd serve in your restaurant?"

"I wouldn't even let it through my kitchen, let alone on the menu," Shinomiya bluntly replied. "There's too much ginger. It's not that obvious at first, but it starts to grate on the taste buds the more you eat. The mushrooms don't add anything to the dish. It's pea soup, not free for all soup. Also, the soup itself… it feels light, but it's on the verge of being runny. You could've heated it for slightly longer. Did you use a timer?"

"Who needs a timer when I've got my eyes and my nose?"

Shinomiya sighed. "If I'm still using a timer in the kitchen, you bet your ass you should be using a timer too. Use it and actually do what it says, don't just look at it whenever you feel like it. You want your food to be _consistent_."

"Hmph. I guess what you're saying is true," she reluctantly admitted. "I like ginger, but I guess not everyone else does. Also, I felt like mushrooms so I just put them in there."

Shinomiya sighed, though he couldn't help but smile as he thought back to Yukihira. This sounded like something he would do. While copious amounts of ginger and mushrooms in pea soup wasn't quite as adventurous as Yukihira's squid concoctions, it was still a questionable choice.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing," Shinomiya said, shaking his head. "You just reminded me of someone."

Natsu raised an eyebrow. "So, even _you_ can have your soft moments. That's interesting."

"Soft?"

"Yeah," Natsu replied. "I didn't think your face was capable of making an expression like that. Ew."

Shinomiya glared at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Natsu let out a loud snort of laughter in response. "You're actually hilarious sometimes. I'm starting to see how you and Inui-senpai became best friends."

"…this isn't the part where we become friends too, right? I don't want that."

"No, neither do I," Natsu responded, a grimace on her face at the mere thought. "But, I think we can still help each other. I want to get better at cooking. You're a world-renowned chef. Regardless of what I think about you, I'd be a fucking idiot if I didn't take advantage of you while you're here. You don't even have to teach me anything. Just let me watch how you make your specialty. I want to see the process. I could help give feedback if you wanted."

"Hmm, I don't know. I think I'm tempted to live up to my nickname of 'asshole' and say no," Shinomiya replied.

"Oh, come on," Natsu complained. "Don't make me beg."

"I'm pretty sure I was clear. I upheld my end of the deal," Shinomiya said. "There's nothing else you can offer me."

"Wait, wait, wait. You've got the uni with you, right?"

Shinomiya shook his head. "It's back at my hotel room."

"How have you used it?"

"Blended it with the foam," Shinomiya replied. When an unsure look appeared on Natsu's face, Shinomiya raised an eyebrow. "What? It tasted great."

"But, it could taste better. I'll tell you how. In return… you've got to help me impress Inui-senpai. As much as it annoys me, you're her best friend. You probably know her better than anyone else. So…"

"Impress her? I'm sure she'd let you help out in the kitchen if you just asked," Shinomiya suggested. "Sure, you'd need a bit of fine-tuning, but I don't see why she'd say no."

"Not _that_ kind of impress," Natsu snapped. "You know. _Impress_."

"…I'm not following."

"Fuck's sake," she said, dragging her palm against her face. "Never mind. Just tell me if we've got a deal or not."

"Fuck it," Shinomiya groaned. "Go on then."

On that note, the two of them shook hands.

* * *

It wasn't until one full week had passed that Shinomiya was able to sit down and relax, finally content with the dish that was in front of him. It had taken much trial and improvement, but at last, it was done.

His specialty.

"This looks incredible," Hinako enthused, looking over the dish with interest. "Seriously, I've never seen you make a dish like this. This is going to be a huge hit."

"It better be. I've had too many sleepless nights over this dish," Shinomiya muttered. He gazed over it fondly, already imagining the reactions of the people back in France. They'd go crazy over this. Shinomiya didn't have a single doubt in his mind. It would be a hit. A bestseller. A showstopper.

"You decided on a name yet?"

"Yeah, I think so," Shinomiya replied, a smile spreading across his lips. "What do you think about _The Ultimate Specialty_?"

Hinako wrinkled her nose. "Cringey. Change it."

Shinomiya's response was to stick his middle finger up at her.

"Anyway, come on," Hinako urged, not even noticing Shinomiya's middle finger. She was already making her way towards the exit. "We've gotta go catch the taxi. The others are waiting to see us off outside. How come you were so desperate to make your 'ultimate specialty' one last time before leaving? I thought you made the final prototype earlier on."

"I'm leaving it for Natsu," Shinomiya replied. "She helped me, so I guess she deserves to taste the final product."

Hinako raised her eyebrows. "Ooo, does that mean you're finally friends with her?"

"No. I'd rather eat gravel. By the way," Shinomiya said, pulling out a small white card from his jean pocket, "she told me to give this to you."

Hinako's eyes scanned the text on the card a few times, her face slowly reddening as she began to read it out loud. "_Come find the room where I first realised… there's a woman in this world for whom I would gladly die_. Huh? What is this? Shinomiya. _Shinomiya_. Explain! What does it _mean_?"

"We're not getting in that taxi just yet," Shinomiya replied, a smirk crossing his lips. "Do what the card says. I'll keep my distance."

On that note, he strode out of the kitchen, ignoring Hinako's demands for him to elaborate on his statement. He'd kept his end of the deal, and now, he just had to sit back and wait for the fireworks to happen.

* * *

_"Alright. Tell me everything you know about her," Natsu demanded, folding her arms as she stared at Shinomiya from across the table. "Favourite colour. Favourite animal. Favourite hobby. Well, apart from cooking."_

_ "…to be completely honest, I'd like to know those things too."_

_ Her facial expression became one of disbelief. "Are you kidding? Those are the basics! I thought you were meant to be her best friend. Man, you really suck…"_

_ "Fuck off," Shinomiya groaned. "We mainly talk about cooking. Aren't you the one who's been working with her for the past few years? You should know this stuff already."_

_ "It would be weird if I asked," Natsu insisted, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. "I mean, last time I asked her for her favourite colour, she said 'all of them'. That's not really helpful though."_

_ "Why do you even need to know any of this? I don't understand," Shinomiya complained._

_ "I like her, idiot," Natsu snapped. "I need to figure out how to, you know, tell her."_

_ "Just tell her? I mean, she literally told me she likes you too so…"_

_ Natsu rolled her eyes. "That's not the point, damnit. I can't just go up to her and say 'I like you'. Even if what you're telling me is true. It has to be special. You know? 'Cause she's special to me. I want to make sure the way I tell her is special too."_

_ "Fine." Shinomiya sighed as he raked a hand through his hair, wrinkling his nose upon realising that it felt a bit greasy. God, he really wanted a shower… but he couldn't leave for the day until he fulfilled his end of the deal: helping Natsu figure this out. "What if you get her to do a treasure hunt in the forest? She loves exploring. That's her kind of thing."_

_ "How the hell would that work?"_

_ "Let's say you have three checkpoints. First checkpoint can be the room you met each other in," Shinomiya suggested. "You would place a clue there. Maybe something like 'the second place you seek is the birth of my specialty'. She'll go to the rhubarbs which is the second checkpoint. There, you leave her a gift."_

_ "What kind of gift?"_

_ "I don't know. You can't make me do all the work," Shinomiya fired back. "Though… I wouldn't recommend anything to do with art. Her ex was an artist."_

_ "Fine, fine. I'll figure it out," Natsu replied. "Continue."_

_ "Let's say the gift's a headband. So, the clue will be 'I bet you can't wait to see what else is left in store, now meet me at the river so that I can become yours'."_

_ Natsu went bright red. "That's too forward!"_

_ "Wait, wait, wait," Shinomiya said, waving his hands to shut her up. "Hear me out. So, she goes to the river. You're already waiting there for her. Hopefully looking better than you do right now—"_

_ "Fuck off."_

_ "—and then you approach her. The moonlight's filtering through the trees. She's smiling at you and she's wearing the headband you got her. It's then, and only then, that you tell her how you feel."_

_ Shinomiya's mind wouldn't move away from the thought of Yukihira being the one standing beneath the moonlight. White headband fluttering at his wrist, golden eyes fixated on his as he moves closer. The susurrus of the river masking the heavy beating of Shinomiya's heart; the 'I love you' held captive by his throat—_

_ "Hey."_

_ Shinomiya was pulled out of his fantasy by Natsu, who was regarding him with a curious expression on her face. His heart had definitely begun to race, but everything else was a figment of his imagination._

_ "You didn't come up with that on the spot, did you?"_

_ Shinomiya raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that?"_

_ "The look on your face. You've got that dreamy look again," Natsu observed. "I'm guessing you made that plan for someone you liked, right? It must've been successful if you're telling me to do it…"_

_ "No," Shinomiya responded after a pause. "I mean, I wouldn't know. I never got the chance to do it."_

_ "Why? Did they confess first?"_

_ "Well… yeah." Shinomiya nodded. "They did."_

_ "Did you confess back?"_

_ He sighed. "No, I didn't. Things ended after that."_

_ Natsu nodded, but for once, she seemed to be lost for words._

_ "Still," Shinomiya continued, "just because it didn't end well for me doesn't mean it won't end well for you. And just so you know, I'm not doing this for your sake. I still don't like you. I'm doing this for Hinako's sake. She deserves to be happy, and I think you can make her happy. So, you'd better not prove me wrong."_

_ Shinomiya had been expecting Natsu to take the piss out of him. Make a comment about how she wasn't surprised that he was unsuccessful in finding love. Make a comment about how she didn't even need his help that much. Anything. But, that didn't happen. Instead, for the first time since they'd met, Natsu offered him a smile._

_ "No worries. I won't let you down."_

* * *

"See you soon, Shinomiya!"

Shinomiya smiled and went to shake hands with Mamiko, only to see arms flying at him from either side. He felt himself beginning to stiffen up at the prospect of a hug, but after a whispered warning from Akari, Mamiko settled for an incredibly enthusiastic handshake. Once the handshake was done, Akari bowed her head. Though Shinomiya was a little puzzled by the level of formality she was showing, he politely bowed his head in response.

"Akari," Mamiko began, looking around herself, "is Natsu late _again_?"

Akari shrugged her shoulders in response.

"Actually, now that I think of it, Chef isn't here either…" Mamiko frowned to herself. "Where _is_ she? I can understand Natsu being late, but Chef? She's almost _never_ late. Shinomiya, have you seen either of them?"

Shinomiya shrugged, though he couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. "No idea."

Akari and Mamiko exchanged puzzled looks. Shinomiya let out a hearty chuckle, a huge smile spreading across his lips as he looked around himself. He was going to miss this place.

"Somehow, I get the feeling you're lying to me," Mamiko replied.

Shinomiya tapped the side of his nose in response before heading towards the waiting taxi. Though the taxi driver was annoyed about waiting an extra twenty minutes, he quietened down once Shinomiya promised to give him a hefty tip upon arrival. On that note, Shinomiya got into the taxi and pulled out his phone to call Lucie. She picked up within the first two rings.

"Hey, Chef! How's Japan treating you? You got a tan yet?"

"Nope, but I _do_ have a heat rash."

"Yikes." Somehow, Shinomiya knew _exactly_ what kind of facial expression she was making without actually seeing her face. "Guess Chef Inui was right about you being a vampire. It hasn't even hit thirty yet. I don't know how you've got a heat rash…"

Shinomiya rolled his eyes. "How's my kitchen?"

"Hasn't burnt down yet, so I'd say pretty good," Lucie replied. "You're coming back tomorrow, right?"

Shinomiya nodded his head, more to himself than anyone else. "Yeah. I land in Paris tomorrow morning. I have to take a small detour to the bank, but from there, I'm coming straight to the restaurant. Hinako's joining me as well. She insisted on seeing how this Chef Robuchon thing goes."

"Great, great. How's she doing? Everything alright?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure she's being kissed by her soon-to-be sous chef right now, so yeah. I'd say so," Shinomiya responded, a smile pulling at his lips when he heard the excited cries of Lucie from the other side of the phone. "Took a while, but I finally pushed them together."

"Finally! You did things _other_ than cooking," Lucie exclaimed. "Now to revive your own love life."

"No, thanks. I'm perfectly content with my kitchen."

"Alright, alright. Eric's sad he has to leave tomorrow. He really likes your kitchen," Lucie informed him. "He says that your range of seasoning is amazing and you have vegetables that he's never seen in his life. He's been praising you the entire time."

Shinomiya frowned. "Who's Eric?"

"…you're kidding, right?"

When Shinomiya didn't respond, Lucie let out a heavy sigh before clarifying. "The person who's running your kitchen in your absence. Eric Karlsson? You met him? Red hair, blue eyes? Swedish accent?"

"Oh." Shinomiya vaguely remembered the face, but not much else. "I completely forgot about him."

"Wow, Chef. Wow. I don't know how you can forget someone as sexy as he is," Lucie said, letting out a wolf-whistle. "Damn. I'm _definitely_ going to miss him."

Shinomiya could feel his eyes beginning to roll into the back of his head. He definitely hadn't missed Lucie and Gao constantly gossiping about all the men they found attractive.

"This is the part where I hang up," Shinomiya said, shifting a finger towards the 'End Call' button.

"Aw, come on. Don't be like that," Lucie whined. "What if I tell you that Jacques is staying on?"

Shinomiya's finger froze mid-air. "Continue."

"He's typing a formal email about it right now. It'll probably be in your inbox in the next hour or so," Lucie explained. "To sum it up: even though you've been an absolute dick, he loves what you do and loves what SHINO's is about and he believes that it's the only place where he can make full use of his abilities. Because of that, he wants to talk things through when you get back."

"Sure." Shinomiya nodded. "I can do that."

There was a long pause in which neither of them spoke. Then, finally, after letting out a small chuckle, Lucie began to speak.

"You've changed, you know. It feels like you're making more of an effort to understand us," Lucie observed. "I'll always be on your side, Chef, but… you're changing for the better. Whatever Kirinoya's done to you, I hope it lasts."

"I hope so too," Shinomiya replied. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lucie."

On that note, Shinomiya hung up the phone. At the same time, his phone pinged with a new email.

** jacquesjacquand **

** ré. mon emploi chez SHINO's**

Shinomiya sat there, quietly reading through the contents of the email until he heard a buzz of activity happening outside of the car. Hinako was the first to exit the building, a silk scarf draped around her neck. She approached Mamiko and Akari with a sunny smile on her face, and Shinomiya could tell that something had changed about the way she walked. There was a new bounce to her step, an unusually optimistic bounce. Shinomiya rolled down the window, smirk ablaze as his eyes latched onto a familiar face that had followed her.

"Look who's late."

"I'm not _late_," Natsu snapped, rushing over to the taxi. In her haste, one of her zori slippers came off. Shinomiya couldn't help but snicker when Natsu had to slow down to retrieve the zori slipper. She muttered "fuck off" in his direction, but it only made Shinomiya chuckle even more.

"Technically, I _am_ about to fuck off, so…"

"Good."

Natsu folded her arms and shot a frown in Shinomiya's direction for a few moments, but eventually, her facial expression softened.

"Thanks for your help," Natsu earnestly said. "She loved it."

"I'm guessing you two finally kissed?"

Natsu quietly nodded, her cheeks going bright red. Shinomiya mentally patted himself on the back, but otherwise, he didn't make a move to say anything else. It really was interesting to see how love changed people. Hinako was happier, Natsu seemed to be opening up more with her emotions… love was just positive overall. At least, when it was reciprocated.

"You can tell me to fuck off if you want," Natsu began, "but the person you had — or have — feelings for… how come it didn't work out?"

"Like you said. I'm an asshole," Shinomiya replied. "That's why."

"…you're not _that_ bad, you know."

Shinomiya raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Someone's warmed up to me now?"

Natsu rolled her eyes. "Think whatever you want. But, you're not an asshole. You're just really fucking good at acting like one. It's the easiest way to avoid emotions. You just drop F-bombs on everyone and they'll stay out of your way. It's _easy_. But… it also gets pretty fucking lonely after a while."

"We're not the same."

A quirk appeared in Natsu's lips. "I never said we are. You'd off yourself if you had my knife skills. Same way I'd off myself if I had your face."

Shinomiya rolled his eyes.

"But," Natsu continued, "we're pretty damn similar."

"Hey, what are you guys talking about?" Hinako had appeared behind Natsu, a curious expression on her face as she waved her hands to grab everyone's attention. "I wanna join."

"There's nothing to join," Natsu replied. "I've said all I need to say. Actually, no. One more thing. You'd better come back soon."

Shinomiya smiled. "Sure."

"Anyway," Natsu said, moving onto Hinako. "You owe me a hug."

"Sure thing!"

Hinako and Natsu proceeded to embrace each other, their arms tightly wrapped around each other while Mamiko exchanged glances with Akari. Shinomiya watched with a smile on his lips before walking over to the taxi. He'd figured that Hinako would take a while to say her goodbye to Natsu, so he could just wait inside of the taxi.

When Hinako got into the seat next to Shinomiya, she leaned her head on his shoulder and let out a sigh.

"I'm so glad you came here. I'm _so glad_. There's no way I can close Kirinoya, not now," she declared. "I'm so inspired!"

She proceeded to burble about how Natsu's lips tasted like cherry lip balm and how soft her hair felt and how much she was going to miss her and how she couldn't believe that they hadn't told each other sooner and soon, it got to the point where Hinako's thoughts just seemed to be going around and around in a perpetual loop.

Shinomiya really didn't mind though. By the looks of it, he'd succeeded in his quest to get Hinako to remain in the profession. It just so happened he'd been able to play matchmaker in the process.


	8. Selfie Time

[A/N: This is a scene I intended to place in an earlier chapter, but after moving things around, it didn't really fit in anywhere so I decided to include it at the end here as a bonus.]

* * *

Chapter 8: Selfie Time

"Hey, vampire. Wanna take a selfie?"

Shinomiya let out an amused hum. "I thought vampires didn't show up in pictures."

"Well, this particular one does," Hinako replied, poking Shinomiya's shoulder. "Come on. You joining me or not?"

"Might as well."

Hinako promptly reached up to the table and grabbed her phone before flopping back down once again, sliding around a bit until she was on Twitter. Then, while her feed began to load, Hinako turned her phone screen so that Shinomiya could see it. It took a few moments — it wasn't that easy to get service out here — but soon, Hinako's feed had loaded up, displaying a tweet from none other than Yukihira Souma. Hinako was babbling on about something, but Shinomiya had tuned her out completely.

The tweet was a simple one: the words "my babe" accompanied by a heart emoji, then a picture of Yukihira kissing his _fiancé_ with their rings on full display. Shinomiya's smile had stiffened at the mere sight of the picture, and while Hinako didn't seem to have noticed at first, she quickly put her phone away once she realised just what she'd shown Shinomiya.

"Shit," Hinako hissed. "Sorry about that. I had no idea that would be the first thing to pop up on my feed…"

"It's fine," Shinomiya replied, that stiff, awkward smile still plastered to his lips.

"Ouch." She winced at first, but then after some moments of staring at Shinomiya, recognition flickered in her eyes. "Wait, wait, wait. I was thinking this before, but now that you're here, I'm seeing it even more…"

"Seeing what?"

"Yukihira's fiancé," Hinako clarified. "He looks pretty similar to you. He's like an off-brand version. You know? Like, he's you, but not quite. Actually, actually, give me a second…"

Hinako proceeded to click around a bit on her phone before looking up at Shinomiya again.

"Yup, this guy's a charity store version," Hinako said, letting out a snort of laughter. "His name's _Kinomiya_."

"Kinomiya?" Shinomiya raised an eyebrow. "Okay, that's just… uh…"

"But wait, that's not all," Hinako said, scrolling down more and more on her phone until she discovered a certain tweet. "He has a bit of a hate vendetta against you. Last year he went on a Twitter rant about you…"

Shinomiya reached for Hinako's phone and turned it slightly so that he could read the tweet.

* * *

** kinokino: **shinomiya Kojirou is actually Such and overrated #Chef

** kinokino:** anyoen can put Vegetables on A plate

** kinokino**: ** YukiharaSouma** should of Been the cover for ** CookingMonthley**, not him

** kinokino**: also read my Latest article: 'why Shinomiya Kojirou is an attention whore'

* * *

"So, basically, he's a dickrider that pretends to hate me while writing literal news stories about me. Nice," Shinomiya said, letting out a snort of laughter. "He didn't even tag Yukihira correctly. He didn't do much correctly, if I'm honest…"

"He was talking shit about your vegetables, but he's literally got a whole account dedicated to his salads," Hinako said, clicking on the account in question. "Look. This tweet's from a few days ago."

* * *

** saladkino:** finished Tossing this salad this morning, time to go And toss ** YukiharaSouma**'s salad ;)

** YukihiraSouma**: you got my name wrong, but my salad is waiting to be tossed

* * *

"This isn't the jealousy talking, but _what the hell is Yukihira thinking_? This guy's trash," Shinomiya groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead as he stared at the tweet on Hinako's screen. "What the actual fuck? Yukihira deserves someone who can at least remember his name, for God's sake…"

"Well, judging by Yukihira's recent tweets, he's pretty good in bed," Hinako replied. "That… that's pretty much it. He's a deadbeat reporter, got sued for libel a bunch of times and starts beef with people on Twitter. Like, it's bad enough that even Yukihira's fans are tweeting at him saying 'dump his ass already!' They really don't like him."

"Good. I don't like him either," Shinomiya concluded. "Seriously… how is Yukihira engaged to a guy like this? How? I'd rather he went out with fucking Takumi and I don't even ship it."

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to ship him with anyone else but… you know, yourself."

"It's a sunken ship, Hinako," Shinomiya said, letting out a sigh as he swiped the phone from her hand and locked it before setting it to one side. "It's a sunken ship. I'm really over it. I mean… I can't put up with childishness. Maybe _I'm_ the one that needs to date an older guy."

"You ever considered that maybe Yukihira's being childish to push you away? He's pretty mature for his age. I mean, he was running his family diner at a young age whenever his dad went places. I heard about it on his latest interview!"

Shinomiya sighed. "What, you're a fangirl now?"

"What? He's actually really cool, alright?"

Shinomiya rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"But, anyway… with him running everything on his own, he had to be strong from a really young age. And, well, there's a reason you fell for him," Hinako pointed out. "He wasn't childish when you met him, right? He was impulsive. Intense. Kinda like you. So, him being childish isn't in character for him. You've gotta remember that he phoned you _right after_ finding out that he'd been believing lies for the past few years. His emotions were probably jangled up. I bet my left asscheek that he regretted every single word of that conversation the second you hung up."

"Well, today's your day. You get to keep your asscheeks intact."

Hinako let out a sigh. "So, you really are planning to give up on Yukihira."

"Thinking about him wasn't doing any good for me. He's not the guy I fell in love with. Or at least… he's not the guy I thought I fell in love with? I don't know. But, whoever Yukihira is now… I'm not in love with him. I feel a certain fondness towards him, but… it's just not love anymore. It can't be. Either way, it doesn't matter. Yukihira's found his love with charity store me. He'll live."

A twinkle appeared in Hinako's eyes. "Trust me. That Kinomiya asshole's just a distraction for Yukihira. He'll come to his senses, realise the original is better and boom! You two are back in business."

"Really not interested. I'm ending this topic," Shinomiya said, turning to walk out into the forest. "Night, Hinako. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hey, wait, did I upset you?"

"No," Shinomiya replied. "I just want to focus on regaining my muse. That's all."


End file.
